Agent Out

by Francine Pascal

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “I, uh …”

  Where to begin? How was this supposed to come out without sounding like utter lunacy or a very bad joke? The truth, she reminded herself. Just tell him the truth. As long as she stuck to that plan, she knew she couldn’t really screw it up. She reminded herself that the point wasn’t really to make Will believe her. That was not something she had any control over. The only point was to not lie—to not drag Will down that same road that she’d taken Sam, and Ed, and, most important, Jake. Or maybe the real point was just to stay in this moment with Will. He’d created this unexpectedly naked moment here on this cold basement floor, and Gaia didn’t want to leave it. What she wanted was to start putting some faith in the opposite sex again.

  “Look,” she said, “there’s no way to say this, so I’m just going to say it, okay? I need to tell you something about me, and it’s going to sound very strange, and you’re probably not going to believe me, but I still need to tell you.” He looked thoroughly confused already. “The thing is,” she went on. “The thing about me is … I … I don’t get scared.”

  “I know,” Will said. “That’s what I’m saying—”

  “No,” Gaia interrupted. “I mean, I can’t get scared. It’s like … it’s like a genetic defect. I’m missing the chromosomes that trigger the fear response, so … I don’t feel fear. I’m sort of … incapable of feeling—I mean, no, not sort of—I am incapable of feeling fear. Genetically incapable.”

  God, that was easy. She never would have believed it, but it was so easy to say it out loud. Or so she thought. A moment later, however, she became very short of breath. She felt strange needling tingles in her hands and feet, and she began to feel dizzy.

  Okay, not so easy. Weird. Sickeningly weird. Literally. I feel sick. Say something, Will. Now’s the time for you to say something.

  She finally sneaked a glance at Will, and when she saw what looked like anger on his face, a wave of regret began to creep up from below.

  Will narrowed his eyes at her. “Hey, I was trying to be straight with you,” he complained. “I was being real with you, and you’re turning it into a joke—you’re screwing with me when I was trying to—”

  “I am not screwing with you,” she insisted. “And what I’m telling you is not a joke.” All she could do was stare him down and stay honest. She’d made her decision. She’d committed to this confession—she wanted this confession, and she wanted to make it to Will. “You asked me if I was scared, and I decided to tell you the truth—the honest-to-God truth about me. It’s not something I tell people about. It’s not something people know. And if you don’t believe me, there is nothing I can do about that. Not a thing. But I’m telling you the truth. You are the only person I am telling.” Now she felt a sudden lump in her throat, and she didn’t even know why. Apparently this kind of exposure stripped you of all emotional control, which was just one of the many reasons she had steered clear of this kind of exposure for most of her life.

  Will stared at her long and hard in the silence, and she stared right back, despite the early signs of inexplicable tears that were beginning to blur her vision. She watched the anger drain away from his face as his eyes narrowed with bafflement. “Gaia, I don’t … I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here. Why are you doing this?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. Now she felt so naked it was almost painful. The tears in her eyes were just some kind of uncontrollable reflex. “I thought it was a good idea at the time, but now I’m not so sure. I told you that you wouldn’t believe me, but I wanted to tell you anyway. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of—this fearless ‘gift’ of mine—it doesn’t really mean anything to me anymore, to be honest. It’s just a fact of my life. It’s the way I’m wired, like blue eyes or wavy hair. I was born this way, so it’s beyond my control.”

  What am I saying now? I’m babbling.

  Will just shook his head with confusion. He probably would have continued to accuse her of joking if he hadn’t seen the tears in her eyes, but now he seemed to have no idea what to think. “I’m sorry, I just … I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here. I mean, if you’re going to keep on with this whole medical miracle story, then I’ve got to assume you’re either joking, which you’re obviously not, or that you’re just … you know …”

  She knew where this was going. “Crazy?”

  “Well, not—”

  “I’m not crazy, Will. If that’s what you want to believe, you can, but I’m not crazy.” Before she knew it, words were spilling out of her mouth. “If you want to know the truth, this little genetic malfunction has been the bane of my existence. It’s made me a target for half my life. It demolished any chance I had of having a real family—I lost my mother, my father had to abandon me more times than I can count, it’s made me a victim, and I hate being a victim….”

  This isn’t going well This is a mess. It wasn’t at all what she’d envisioned when she’d made the decision to be honest. But then again, she hadn’t really envisioned anything. Still, that sense of free falling was feeling less and less like freedom and more like plummeting to her doom.

  “Look, I already told you,” she said, swiping those pain-in-the-ass tears from her cheeks. “You don’t have to believe me. I just needed to tell you. I had to. But you’re making me regret it. Don’t make me regret telling you this.” She shifted to make some distance between them. She hated this feeling. She hated being this raw in front of him—in front of anyone, but especially him. Suddenly being this raw and this close was too much.

  “Gaia …” Will wouldn’t let her keep the gap between them. He slid across the wall and pressed his side up against hers again. “Don’t cry, okay? Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

  “You said that already.”

  “Well, what do you expect?” Will threw up his hands and puffed out a hopeless little laugh. “Okay. You’re, uh … you’re clinically fearless. You’re a genetic anomaly.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly right.”

  “Well, will you at least admit that it sounds a little insane?”

  “Yes. It sounds a little insane. Now get over it!” She shoved her elbow into Will’s side. Hard. It led to a much needed moment of silence.

  Something changed in that silence. Gaia couldn’t put her finger on it, but something changed. She finally realized that she’d done it. As torturous as it was, whether he ever believed her or not, she had made it all the way through her confession. She’d been completely honest about who she was … and the world hadn’t come to an end.

  And the next thing she knew, she felt his knuckles graze her cheek, wiping away the remaining tears. And then he clasped his fingers between hers and rested her hand on his knee. His hand had stopped shaking now.

  Gaia was completely exhausted. She leaned back and dropped her head on Will’s shoulder. She wasn’t sure which was more tiring—defusing a bomb or confessing her secret.

  “God,” she breathed.

  “What?” Will asked, leaning his head back against the wall.

  “I feel completely different,” she said. “I feel … lighter. I mean, I honestly feel lighter now that you know. I think secrets have an actual mass—a physical weight that literally weighs you down.”

  “I think you’re right,” Will agreed. “I do.”

  Gaia gazed up at Will’s face. She couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking at that moment. Then she settled back down on his shoulder. “I think extremely fat people must have a ton of secrets.”

  “I suppose it stands to reason.”

  “Will …” She peered up at his face again. She was close enough to smell the faint sweet remnants of sweat and Yardley soap on his neck.

  “Yeah?”

  “I honestly don’t care either way,” she said. “But I still want to know. Do you believe me?”

  “You mean about your—?”

  “Ye
s. Do you believe me?”

  Will took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. He turned his face toward the ceiling and stared at the grating to an air shaft where they’d tried in vain to make their escape. “I didn’t know you grew up without a dad,” he said.

  “He left when I was twelve. I didn’t meet him again until I was seventeen.”

  “Where the hell was he hiding?”

  “Long story,” Gaia replied.

  “Yeah, it always is.” Will sighed. “You know … I lost my dad, too. He split before I was even born. Walked out on us while Mom was pregnant with me.”

  Gaia found her hand gripping Will’s more tightly when she heard this. For a moment she felt like she could see exactly what Will looked like as a child. He probably even had the buzz cut.

  Of course, she thought. That explained all his macho alphamale issues instantly. That’s why he had so much to prove. He’d grown up without a father.

  “Have you ever talked to him?” Gaia asked. “Have you ever met him?”

  “Never,” Will said. “To be totally honest … I don’t think my mom much cared if I ever met him or not. I don’t think she cared much about him in general. I think she’s the reason he left. I mean, I wouldn’t say that to her face. I probably wouldn’t say it to anyone except my uncle Casper. But I said it to you.” Will turned his face down to Gaia, grazing his stubbly cheek along hers until their eyes met.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I wanted to test your theory. I wanted to see if I felt any lighter.”

  “And?”

  “And …” Will’s voice trailed off. He brought his fingers to her lips and traced along the curve of her mouth and then down her neck. Gaia felt another rush of heat rise up from the center of her chest, through the back of her neck, and into her cheeks. He ran his index finger along her collarbone, just beneath her shirt, and then pushed the wisps of her tangled hair back behind her ear. “I suppose I do feel much lighter,” he said. “And yes. If you insist you’re a genetic freak of nature … then I think I could believe you. I mean, I’ve yet to see anything about you that’s even remotely normal.”

  Will tilted Gaia’s chin up and their lips met—first for a soft kiss, but then for something much deeper. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and breathed him in, collapsing against him as they drifted down onto the basement floor. There was something new about this kiss. A new kind of urgency—a new kind of closeness. Like some thin layer of caution between them had been peeled away. Gaia had given all of herself over now. Not just the parts of herself she was willing to reveal, but the entire person, secrets and all. And she could feel it in the kiss. She could feel it in the way his strong hands spread out and gripped her entire back. He was holding all of her now.

  There was no way of knowing what might have happened then and there on that basement floor. Wills fingertips had just found their way under her shirt to the small of her back when that ugly sound stopped them both cold.

  First there was the high-pitched electrical snap that sent them both flying to their feet in less than a second. It sounded like a spark plug or a piston firing. Then there was the electronic whir. It started at a low-pitched rumble, but the ominous pitch was climbing awfully quickly. And it was coming from that utility closet.

  There’s no way, Gaia thought in that surreal little blip of a moment. There’s just no way….

  Gaia and Will shared one painfully apprehensive glance, and then she leaped back into that cabinet. The numbers were the first thing she saw at its base. Flashing on the bomb’s digital readout. It seemed so much like a clichéd bad dream, only it was actually happening.

  The bomb—the very same bomb they had busted their asses to defuse—was somehow operational again. The goddamn thing had reactivated itself.

  a big, ragged hole leading into more darkness

  DISTANT EARTHQUAKE

  You’ve got to be kidding, Will thought frantically. His mind, he realized, was not designed to cope with this. In the space of two hours he’d gone from mortal terror straight into one of the most tender, confessional conversations of his life—if not the most—and then into the sublime bliss of an embrace with Gaia—and then straight back into the adrenaline-soaked fear brought on by the sound of the bomb.

  Gaia was already moving, propelling herself toward the cabinet where the supposedly dead mechanism had come back to life. She was already down on her hands and knees, her face up close to the digital display, peering at the bomb’s components in the hopes of seeing something they’d missed.

  And she’s not afraid, Will noted. Some part of his mind was reeling from what Gaia had just told him. But that part of his mind wasn’t in control right now. Maybe Gaia is automatically rational and collected at a time like this, he reminded himself, but you have to force yourself. So, do it. Force yourself.

  “See anything?” he asked her, dropping onto the floor next to her. His lips were still tingling with Gaia’s kiss, and he impatiently ignored the sensation and stared at the bomb. Its display was flashing. The numbers read 00:00.

  What the hell does that mean? Will thought wildly. The bomb mechanism clicked and beeped again, and as he watched, the numbers changed to 00:10.

  And this time there was no question what the 10 meant—it meant ten seconds. Because the clock was counting down.

  “It’s midnight!” Gaia said, looking at her watch. “It’s El Dia!”

  And this is where we both buy the farm, Will thought, watching the numbers dial down from 07 to 06 to 05, each change accompanied by a loud beep. In the face of certain death—in what he knew was his last moment on earth—he felt a strange, otherworldly calm. At least I got to kiss her one last time, he thought as he and Gaia reached for each other, pulling each other into a final tight hug. And at least I can die with her in my arms. At this distance we’ll be vaporized—we won’t even be shadows on the wall.

  Will’s eyes were clutched tightly closed, and Gaia’s fragrant, silken hair was pressed against his face. He could feel the smooth muscles of her back beneath his hands. He was counting the beeps—just two to go. As last moments went, it honestly wasn’t so bad.

  Goodbye, Will thought on the final beep.

  Nothing happened.

  What the—?

  That wasn’t entirely true, Will thought. Something had happened. They had both felt a faint, deep tremor, like a distant earthquake. And Will’s ears were popping; something had happened to the air pressure. But there had been no explosion.

  Gaia was letting go of him and standing up. Will stumbled to his feet, glancing back at the bomb, whose mysterious display had gone completely dead. Behind him Gaia was walking back out of the room.

  “Will!”

  He followed her.

  There was something wrong with the air out here, Will realized, stepping back out into the courtroom basement’s central area—the spot where they’d shared their secrets.

  The smell, Will realized. The air smells different.

  He could smell plaster dust—it was tickling his nose, threatening to make him sneeze—and behind that another smell. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it until he remembered a time at college when he’d joined a crowd watching firemen extinguish a burning dorm bunding. The aroma—burned air, charred paint, and blackened wood and stone—was the same as he was smelling now.

  Will’s eyes were itching and burning. Looking around, he could barely see tendrils of dust and smoke hanging in the air.

  He and Gaia stared at each other, confused.

  “The wires,” Gaia said suddenly, snapping her fingers. “The wires from the bomb went through a hole in the wall, Will!”

  “So?”

  “So there was an explosion,” Gaia said, grabbing his hand and pulling him down the corridor. “Somewhere else.”

  “What do you mean?” Will followed her, trying to keep from sneezing in the suddenly dusty air.

  “You heard it, right?
” Gaia said impatiently. “Exactly at midnight. A muffled explosion.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Look.”

  Gaia was pointing at the floor. In the back corner of the basement, far away from the bright ceiling lights, Will saw a black metal plate sunk into the floor. It couldn’t be larger than three feet square, covered in the familiar diamond pattern of the plates one saw on a city sidewalk and walked over without noticing.

  Looking closer, Will saw that the plate was warped and bent—and that bands of dust were radiating from its edges along the floor.

  “Down there,” Gaia said, pointing. “Through that trapdoor.”

  “Yeah.” Will realized that she was right. “There’s got to be another basement—a sub-basement below this one.”

  “And that’s where the bomb went off,” Gaia finished, reaching down to pull the trapdoor’s handle. She grunted with the effort it took. The door squeaked as it swung upward, releasing a cloud of dust and smoke. “Come on—we’ve got to see what happened.”

  Will came closer and peered down through the trapdoor. There was absolutely nothing to see except smoke and dust—Gaia had already sneezed once, and he was about to do the same thing. “But we don’t know where that goes,” Will argued weakly. There was no point—Gaia was already swinging her legs down into the hole. Will could see that she had found the iron rungs of a ladder leading into the darkness.

  There’s no point in arguing, Will thought. I just have to follow her.

  But what’s down there?

  As soon as Gaia’s blond head had moved down far enough, nearly vanishing into the blackness below, Will swung his legs over and followed her. It was like disappearing down a well—if Will had been claustrophobic in the least, he would already be suffering.

  “There’s light down here,” Gaia’s voice echoed up from beneath him. He took her word for it, although he couldn’t see anything. He was in a stone-walled tunnel leading straight down. The air was thicker with smoke, dust, and the smell of ash. His and Gaia’s feet clanged on the metal rungs, echoing crazily in the darkness.