Eve and the Faders

by Berneta L. Haynes

  "Yes," Agent Yu answered. "Can I ask where you got the gun?"

  "Get the information," Eve repeated and hung up before Agent Yu could respond. After memorizing the agent's number, she tossed the phone into the river.

  She looked at her watch and frowned. That took longer than I expected. She only had thirty minutes left to carry out the second part of her plan.

  ***

  Eve stared at the sign that read "First Bank of the Midwest." Through the window, she could see a teller counting money and stuffing it inside something beneath the counter, the cash register. As she watched the teller count more bills and hand the bills to a customer, she thought her heart’s pounding might break through her chest. It's an insane idea. Stupid. Completely foolish. But it was the only one she had at the moment.

  She slung the backpack over her shoulders, pulled the straps tight, and puffed out her chest. You got this. She stared at the window of the bank and exhaled. The window reflected only the building and the cars behind her. She was still invisible.

  Entering the bank felt akin to walking into the twilight zone. Eve couldn't believe what she was about to do. But she silenced any thoughts of hesitation and proceeded as lightly as possible toward the teller she'd watched from outside. The bank was approaching closing time, so there were only a half-dozen customers inside. She realized she couldn't have chosen a more strategic time. Few witnesses.

  As she passed two tellers, she glanced at the cameras above each station.

  "I'm thinking of taking a week off to go see my mom in Minnesota. I just...I need a break, you know?" said the younger teller who was absently drumming her fingers on the counter. "Can't even remember when I had more than a day off, do you?"

  "Use your sick days. Tell Toni you have the stomach flu or something, not like she can stop you from using your paid sick time," her older colleague responded. "I have some vacation days I can donate to you."

  Holding her breath, Eve slipped by the tellers who were too absorbed in their conversation to notice anything strange. She reached the teller whose station was in the farthest corner out of hearing range of the others. Standing behind the woman, Eve remained as quiet and still as possible. Okay. Just do it. You got this. She put her hand over the woman's mouth and, as soon as the woman screamed, Eve pinned her arm behind her back.

  "Don't holler," Eve whispered, trying not to breathe in too much of the woman's raspberry cologne. The woman tried to scream some more, but Eve squeezed her arm. "Just be still and don't scream."

  In the minute or so Eve had taken to reach the teller, more customers had queued at the teller stations. The room that had been mostly empty a couple of minutes ago was rather loud now, filled with chatter and soft music. All the other tellers were busy serving customers. Eve figured she had only a moment before one of the tellers looked in the direction of her hostage. She had to act quickly.

  "I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to take my hand away and let your arm go. Then, I need you to open the drawer. Okay?"

  Not saying a word, the woman nodded. When Eve released her, she opened the drawer and stood still.

  "How much is in there?" asked Eve. "Don't say it. Write it on that pad."

  The woman was staring straight ahead. She jotted a number on the pad above the register. $5000.

  Eve sighed. She knew a bank wouldn't keep much cash at the registers, yet she'd hoped for a bigger haul than $5000. There's likely a back area where they lock away larger amounts of money. In the movies, the large sums of money are always hidden somewhere in a vault. For a moment, Eve combed her mind and tried to recall all the bank-heist films she'd ever watched.

  "There's a customer coming," the teller exclaimed in a shrill whisper, looking straight ahead and barely moving her lips.

  "Put it all in a bag under the counter, fast. But don't draw attention to yourself."

  She stuffed the bills inside the bag, haphazardly dropping bills on the floor, and placed the small bag of cash on the counter. She pushed the bag toward Eve and continued staring ahead, still as a statue.

  Eve forced the bag of money into the backpack and zipped it shut.

  "I...I have kids. Please don't hurt me," said the teller, trembling.

  "I told you I'm not going to hurt you."

  Fuck. She’ll push the button before I can get away. In the movies, they always push the button. Frozen in place, she wondered what she could do to ensure she had time to get out of the place before the teller caused a scene. I could try to teleport. No, too risky. She chided herself and vowed to get a handle on teleporting. In the next moment, she decided it was best to just run as fast as possible.

  An alarm sounded, and Eve knew her time was up. The teller had pushed the button.

  “Help, she’s taking off with the money!” the teller shouted.

  Startled gasps and screams came from the other tellers and customers. An approaching customer, a well-groomed twenty-something in a business suit, stopped and threw his hands up.

  Wasting no more time, Eve took this as her moment to run. She wove through the throng of terror-stricken tellers and the guards who were looking around for the robber, their weapons drawn.

  When she bolted out the building, she broke into a sprint, turning corner after corner, glancing over her shoulders and swerving through crowds of people. As she reached a coffeehouse in the South Loop minutes later, she stopped and bent over. Her stomach and ribs ached, and she wheezed, gulping for air.

  She wasn't sure how long it took to stop wheezing and feeling like she might faint. Standing up straight, she looked around.

  No cops. No sirens.

  Fuck me. I did it.

  ***

  Inside the coffeehouse, an invisible Eve knocked twice at the restroom door. "It's me, Eve," she whispered. "Mauricio?"

  He opened the door, grasped at the air until he found her hand, and pulled her inside. "What took you so long?" he asked, leaning against the door.

  "I had to make a stop." As she became visible, she inhaled and exhaled. Her heart was still racing, and she wondered if she'd ever catch her breath again. But she rushed forward and hugged him tightly. "Thank you. Thank you for doing that. I think Agent Yu was scared shitless."

  "It's all good." His tan cheeks flushed red. "Why are you so out of breath? What was your pit stop?"

  Avoiding the question, she went to the mirror and checked out her reflection. Ugh. Why do I still look like this? Greenish-gray eyes set in a milky white face curtained by red hair looked back at her.

  "Eve? Where did you go?"

  "That's uh...yeah, I'll tell you later."

  He regarded her with skepticism. "Fine. So what's next?"

  "Let's hop a bus to Iowa," she answered, still examining her reflection.

  "Why Iowa?"

  "It's not Chicago. Better yet, it's the middle of nowhere."

  He rubbed his head. "Makes sense."

  "Probably best you stay invisible until we get there though."

  "Do you think it'll work? Do you think she'll help you find the others?"

  "No, not really," Eve replied, pushing her hair behind her ears. "But at least now she's scared of me, so I don't think she'll cross me. For now. Problem is, her boss is scarier than me."

  "So we hide?"

  She nodded. "Yes. For now."

  8

  A couple of hours before sunrise, the bus stopped at a gas station off Interstate 80 in Davenport, Iowa. Eve stepped off the bus, an invisible Mauricio alongside her. They headed down the dark road to a motel.

  "You sure about this place?" asked Mauricio. "Small towns irk me."

  "It's only for a few nights. Anyway, I doubt anyone will look for us here."

  In the lobby of the rundown motel, a stale, moldy odor hung in the air, and peach-colored wallpaper lined the walls. With thinly veiled disgust, Eve surveyed the room—the dusty-looking navy-blue sofa and chair, and the plastic chandelier hanging over the entrance.

  "How can I help you, Miss?
" said a speckle-faced receptionist in his early twenties. He wore a big smile.

  "I'd like your cheapest room for three nights." She put on her best rural, all-American girl accent to match her new face and red hair. It occurred to her that this face would benefit her.

  The man pecked at his keyboard and stared at an outdated monitor screen. He quoted her the total. "What's your name, Miss?"

  "Res Adler."

  "Where'd you get that name?" Mauricio whispered.

  A gloomy look sailed over her face. "Someone I used to know."

  "What was that, Miss Adler?" asked the receptionist.

  She cleared her throat and half-smiled. "Oh nothing, I just remembered I need to call a friend to let her know I'm in town. Haven't seen her in years."

  He resumed typing, looking closely at the monitor screen. "Okay. We have a cleaned room in the renovated section. Usually the renovated section is an upgrade, but I'll waive the extra fee."

  "Oh, wow. I appreciate that," she replied, smiling. Damn, white girls really get the special treatment, don't they? "Thank you."

  "No problem, Miss. I'll need a card on record for any damages."

  "All I have is cash. Is that okay?"

  "Miss, we only accept—"

  "I totally understand. It's just that...my wallet got stolen up in Minneapolis, and all my cards were in it. I can't get any replacement card until I get home." She paused, watching the young man's face twist into a sympathetic frown. "Would it be all right if I left the same amount in cash for you to hold for damages?"

  He regarded her with suspicion.

  From the silence and the look on his face, she knew he was about to break protocol because he felt sorry for her.

  "I guess I could make a note here on your reservation. But I'm afraid you might have to hang around for a few hours after checkout, depending on when our housekeepers get to your room. Thing is we generally don't take reservations without a card—"

  "In case someone damages the room and you need to charge the card, right? I totally understand," said Eve.

  "Yes, that's right. But given your situation, I'll make an exception."

  She flashed him a relieved smile. "Thanks, I appreciate that. I don't believe I caught your name...?"

  "Dan." He smiled and handed her a receipt and key to the room. "And I'll tell you what. I'll put a note on the reservation that your room has housekeeping priority when you check out so that we don't hold you up too long."

  "Thank you so much, Dan." She offered him a flirtatious smile before pocketing the receipt and key.

  "Yeah, it's fine. We have a few long-term customers here who only pay in cash. We try to make it the exception, not the rule. You're in room one hundred and fifty-four. Let me know if you need anything, extra pillows, blankets, or whatever."

  "I sure will," she replied, still smiling. "Thank you."

  When Eve arrived at the elevator, Mauricio nudged her. "You know you're a little too good at the innocent act."

  Smirking, she pressed the "up" button at the elevator. "Folks like a pretty white face with a cute Southern accent."

  "I guess so. Oh, and I'm curious...Res Adler? Is there any reason you chose to represent yourself with that name?"

  "First name that came to mind."

  "That's it?"

  "Sure."

  They entered the room that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, and Eve locked the door. When she flipped on the switch, Mauricio appeared. For a minute, they stood at the door and stared around the dank room. It reminded Eve of some of the hotel rooms they'd lived in for brief periods when she was a child before moving into the family home. With a long sigh, she went to the bed and dropped down.

  "This is the renovated section?" Eve muttered.

  "At least it's only a day or so," said Mauricio, kicking off his shoes at the door.

  She removed her backpack and went to the bed. After opening the pack and looking inside, she poured the contents of the bag onto the bed. She stared in awe at the stacks of money, more money than she'd ever seen.

  "Whoa," he exclaimed, hanging his jacket on the chair and ogling the cash. "Where did you get that?"

  "Um, well," said Eve, turning red. "About that 'pit stop' I made before I met up with you at the coffeehouse...I sort of, maybe robbed a bank."

  He gaped at her, at a loss for words.

  ***

  When Eve woke up, she saw Agent Grobeck standing in her apartment. Her hands were around his neck and her knee pressing against his chest. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wiped them away.

  "You all right?" asked Mauricio, lingering in the doorway of the bathroom. "What's wrong?"

  "I just wish this were all a dream. But it's not, and I'm stuck here in this shitty motel with some strange man, and there's no way I can go home or call my friends. And I don't know if Mr. Pebbles is safe."

  "Who's Mr. Pebbles?"

  She thought about how Mr. Pebbles used to sit next to her on the sofa and paw at her, forcing her to pet him. If she didn't pet him right away, he'd whine and meow until she relented. Her smile faltered as she stared at the wall. "I'm so alone. Everything I ever knew and had is gone...because of this ability. Because I was stupid enough to think I could use it to make my life better." Tears dampened her pillow.

  Mauricio shook his head. "It's not an 'ability'. It's your gift."

  She scoffed.

  "I'm serious. It's part of who you are, and it's your only way to stop them. To get your life back." He paused, walking toward her. "Your gift is a blessing from God, Eve, not a burden."

  "God?" she snorted. "My mom was on her knees every night praying to 'God'. And you know what? God never protected her."

  "Eve—"

  "Because he doesn't exist. And even if he does, I'd say he stopped caring about me a long time ago." She wiped her face and kept her eyes fixed on him.

  "All right, all right. Well, how about we agree that you're not alone in this? And I'm your friend, not just a strange guy you're stuck with?"

  "I barely know you," she replied, rolling her eyes.

  "Okay then, so let's look at what you do know. We just threatened a federal agent together, and we're on the run from the government. Plus, you robbed a bank, and we killed a guy. I'd say we know each other pretty well at this point."

  "You killed a guy. I had nothing to do with that."

  "Fine. Fair point."

  "And you tried to kill me."

  "Also a fair point. For what's it worth, I wouldn't try it again. It was a spur of the moment mistake."

  "That's...comforting. I guess," she replied.

  He gave her a playful shove, and a smile curled her lips.

  "There's that smile I saw the first time you were in Agent Grobeck's office."

  His tender expression caught Eve off guard, and she flushed.

  "Let's stay hopeful through this. Yeah?" he said, sitting on the bed and sighing.

  She joined him and nodded. "Okay."

  "Good. And let's talk about something lighter. Starting with why you've looked like a white girl since we left the hospital. You still haven't explained that to me."

  Eve shrugged. "I don’t know. It never happened before now. Are you capable of more than fading?"

  "Not that I know of. But 'fading'...that's an interesting word choice. I never thought about it like that."

  "Sounds better than 'cloaking'," Eve replied. "You really have no other abilities?"

  "I'm pretty sure I don't."

  She looked out the window. "Do you think SPI knows that some of us are capable of more? I mean, they don’t even seem to know where the fading comes from, why some of us can do it and some can’t."

  He rubbed his chin. "I don't know. Do you think they know there’s more?"

  "My sense is they have no idea. It never came up in class. But if they don't, I bet they'll know soon, now that they have a whole class of trainees who probably have other abilities. No way SPI won’t find out. And when they do—"


  "Ay, Dios mio."

  "Yeah. We have to find the others. Fast. And warn them."

  “Did you ever talk to other trainees about other abilities?” he asked.

  Eve stared at him, thinking about her conversations with AJ regarding her abilities and her telepathy episode with Sam. Before she could say yes, it occurred to her that she didn’t trust him. He saved me from that place, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell him everything yet. Agent Yu would tell me to play it safe, wouldn’t she? She shook her head. “Like I said, I didn’t know I could do this until now.”

  She went to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Closing her eyes, she visualized her tight curls and freckles, the small mole on the left side of her chin, her wide nose, and bushy eyebrows. I want to see my face again.

  When she opened her eyes and found a familiar darker face staring at her in the mirror, she smiled. Her hands swept over her face, examining the shape of her eyes, lips, and ears, as if trying to memorize each detail. She ran her fingers over her tiny dark curls that were packed down to her head like wool.

  "Oh no. Hey, come here. Hurry," said Mauricio, holding the remote and pointing it at the television.

  She rushed to his side. "What's going on?"

  He pointed at the television. "This is bad, Eve."

  The same brown face she'd seen reflected in the bathroom mirror was now plastered across the television screen, while the CNN anchor mentioned a bank robbery that had occurred in Chicago. "This woman, believed to be Evelina Marie Cooper, a former high school teacher at Martin Delaney, was seen leaving the bank minutes after the robbery occurred. A spokesperson for Homeland Security stated that the department suspects she's involved in a Chicago-based terrorist cell they have been tracking. The department is pursuing multiple leads," said the anchor. The anchor was next shown walking through the hallway of a school that Eve immediately recognized. Her heart sank.

  "She was always a bit aloof," said a familiar voice. The camera panned to two of her old colleagues, Kara and Rachel. They were sitting in the teachers' lounge.

  "Kara Kowalski teaches ninth-grade history at the high school," the anchor explained.