Chapter 5

The night was ending, dawn slowly creeping in from the horizon. This was Agnes’s favorite time to be driving. Beat, hungry and sleep deprived, she followed Grant’s car. Destination: unknown.

Grant had looked her in the eyes, and asked her to trust him once more, before turning around and walking to his car. She literally had nothing to lose. Nothing left. What was the worst that could happen, she would turn into a sexy vampire and live forever, saving the world wearing couture Armani?

“I’m in,” said Agnes, almost yelling at Grant. He didn’t stop but turned around and smiled.

“Then get in and follow me.”

He was already turning on the engine of that gorgeous car before she could annoy him with more questions. He needed to test her will, her courage, and her strength. He knew this was the final frontier before she would never turn back or end up in the looney bin telling stories of how she was robbed, lied to, and left to die in the desert by some man she thought was a British spy.

Tires screeching, she followed the black Mustang. The city lights danced in the darkness, and her spirit felt light. Was this happiness?

They drove east, leaving California behind with no thoughts of the past. Agnes felt the grip of her hands on the wheel, the power of the engine at her feet, and for the first time, she trusted herself, her choice to follow this man into the unknown. All she had now was her truth, her old clothes, and her little car. Good old Beetle VW with worn out tires. And, just like her, it roared like a brand-new baby.

Grant watched the road in front of him, and from time to time made sure Agnes was on his tail. She was a good, fast driver, he already saw the edge needed for the type of work he was testing her for.

He had been an agent for two years and had not really felt the need to add anything else to his life. There had been the occasional affair, very casual and fast, usually with the “it” girl of the moment. The instafamous influencers, the occasional Hollywood starlet, was what happened to them when they let their guard down at a fancy dinner party in the Paris, London, or Singapore night scene. All in good fun. There were never any tears or confusion, both parties always knew the drill. Grant was a creature of habit, and his powers of persuasion never failed him. But, this new endeavor, Agnes, was something different.

HQ had mentioned how they needed more female agents, and he thought of her as a possibility. Women played a key role in the organization, their boss being a female had lots to do with it. And, he thought this would be a welcome change to the team.

He took I-8 to New Mexico. The sun was now fully over the horizon. He never thought of hunger or entertained his body when it needed rest. It performed until he said it was time to eat, sleep, or make love.

Agnes was right behind him. They had driven a good three hours. She must need to get gas, he thought. Agnes was thinking the exact same thing.

She was exhausted, almost out of gas and in desperate need of coffee. She had given up on her appearance, God knows what she appeared like, yet she still had one luxury left she had not lost: her sunglasses. She loved them, and when she put those on, she could conquer the world.

Grant appeared to slow down in front of her.

“Thank you dude,” Agnes muttered.

Grant had been on this road before. He did not like to stop for gas at the giant truck stops, with millions of gas stations and odd fast-food joints crowding them. He knew a more secluded location where they would not be questioned, nor would Agnes bump into anybody she knew. He saw the exit to the right, just at the outskirts of Arizona, headed into Yuma. He took the exit, Agnes right on his tail.

Agnes had no ac in her car, so the leather seat was frying her thighs into two chunky pieces of fried chicken. Her armpits smelled like two-day old pizza and a new zit was popping out from her right cheek. Amazing, Agnes thought as she looked in her mirror, perfect timing. What would, dude, think of her. She realized he had not introduced himself.

“I don’t even know his name!” shouted Agnes in her car.

“I have to pee man,” said Agnes to herself.

Grant saw her through his rearview mirror. She was so forceful, intense, she looked like a madwoman, although cute, he thought. He smiled to himself then looked up at the road signs.

“Petrol, 2 miles “, a circular reg sign, with white borders.

“That’s my cue.”

Left, then straight for about ten minutes.

Both cars disappeared from sight, leaving behind a trail of dusty sand, clouds of yellow, then… vanished.

A grey road led them to an old-fashioned gas station. Four pumps with a red roof over them, and a small market with a to-go pay window. Grant pulled in at the gas pump closer to the window. Agnes followed, and stopped her car in the pump opposite him. She sat there for a moment, looking around. There was an old man in the kiosk, with white hair and a green cap on. He didn’t seem to notice them. She turned off the engine, and listened to the silence, feeling the desert heat all around her. Her hands were shaking. Hunger plus adrenaline had brought her this far. She needed details, and the guy’s name. Now.

Grant got out of his car and began pumping gas. Flawless, not one drop of sweat fell from his face, did this man not sweat? Agnes took a deep breath, smoothed her hair, and took her aviators off.

“I won’t bite,” yelled Grant from outside.

Agnes smiled ironically and opened the door.

“Yeah, right.” She stepped out, almost tripping over her feat.

“Graceful.” Grant finished pumping and put the pump back on its hinge.

Agnes shut her door and walked towards him.

“What is your name.”

Grant either did not seem to hear her, or he did not want to answer her question.

He wiped his hands and looked at her.

Agnes opened her eyes wide and asked him again..

“Dude, what is your name.”

He stared at her and thought for a second. To be honest, he had never told anyone his real name, outside of the agency. “Thor” was his favorite nickname, but she would laugh it off. He usually never said his name, he would go by his 00 tag at HQ. But, right now, someone wanted to know his name. It was a strange feeling… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Grant.”

He quickly turned and walked inside the little store.

Agnes repeated his name.

“Grant… of course it is.”

She looked back at the road. She could barely see it, the sun reflected everything to the hundredth degree. Like a snake, hiding under the sand, it was barely visible. Agnes, what are you doing, she asked herself. This is the stupidest thing you have done yet. Mom would absolutely kill me.

She turned around, and there was Grant, outside of the kiosk, staring at her.

“I wouldn’t stay out here if I were you.”

“What?” said Agnes, but before she could say something smart, there was an in the distance, somewhere behind the gas station. Grant did not even flinch. Agnes jumped and covered her head.

“Crap!” she shouted.

Grant looked at his watch, then at his nails.

Another explosion, this time on the other side, right on the road they had taken in. It echoed throughout the entire gas station, everything vibrated, and glass shattered all around them.

“Grant! What is happening!”

He walked past her, and out in the open air.

“No! Get back here!” Agnes pulled at his arm.

“One...more...coming... Agnes, look at me,” Grant turned her towards him. She breathed heavily. Her face was so close to his face.

“When I tell you to, you are going to run inside the little store, tell the clerk to give you the access codes, and then run out the back door. Keep running until you see a car. Get in it, and drive. Don’t ask questions…” He shook her, to make sure she was still with him.

“Ok!” screamed Agnes, at the same time the third explosion went off, almost at their feet.

“Go!”, Grant pushed Agnes to the kiosk, then ran in the opposite direction. She wanted to go after him, but, somehow, she trusted this man. And she needed to run for her life, the fire was starting to spread all over the gas pumps.

She saw her car, and remembered her bag, her purse, her sunglasses! Split second decision, she opened the passenger door, grabbed her sunglasses, and said one last goodbye.

“Thanks car, you were awesome,” she jumped out, and ran to the kiosk.

She pushed the door to the kiosk open, and as it clanked shut behind her, the gas pump exploded, and so did her car.

No time Agnes, focus, what did Grant say I had to do?

The old clerk stood behind the cash register, patiently waiting for her to approach him. As if there was no mayhem happening around him at all!

Agnes ran towards him, tipping over chip displays.

“Codes! I need the codes!”, she yelled in his face, like a maniac.

He smiled at her.

“What codes?”

Red, all Agnes saw was red, and orange flames coming up outside the windows of the market. It smelled like gas and concrete, the fumes and smoke were making their way quickly into the shop.

“Ahh! The, the...the...access codes!”

At this, the old man turned around, and opened the register. Tiny explosions, falling ceiling and toppling outside architecture did not interfere with this man’s peaceful state. Or was he a machine?! He turned around with an envelope in his hand.

“Off you go then,” he said.

Agnes grabbed the envelope and ran towards the back of the shop. But, she thought of the old man, stuck here. She turned to make sure he was all right, but he had vanished.

She made it to the backdoor, which was made of iron, and was unlocked. She pushed it with her hands, but instantly remembered that metal plus heat equals very, very hot!!!

The fire surrounding the entire building had made the door a boiling hot pot.

It must have been the heaviest door in human history. She couldn’t stop, and as she pushed open the door, putting her whole weight on her hands, she let out the most savage, primal scream she had ever let out.

As the door swung open, black smoke rushed into her lungs, and she saw flames on the sides, but she ran through, jumped over the flames, and kept going. She felt no pain at this point and was afraid to look back. She needed to find a car!

Desert, and more desert, and a road on the horizon. That was all there was. Just keep running, Agnes said to herself. The sun hit her face, blinding her, but what the hell was she afraid of, there was nothing in front of her! There was no danger of running into anything, however, it would be nice to still be able to see when this was all over...she remembered she had her aviators in her pocket. The only part of herself that was actually useful: her fashion sense. She didn’t stop running though, just slowed down a bit, enough so that her free left hand could reach into her right pocket, take out the sunglasses and put them on. Success!

Agnes clutched that envelope in her right hand, it was probably burned into her palm by now. Don’t look back Agnes, just run, find a damn car, and make it out alive. Then, she heard gunshots.

“Keep going!” she yelled. If she looked back, she would start to freak out.

She had almost reached the end of the clearing, and there was an alternate road, right off the main highway, the only road in sight. The wind was dancing in between her shirt and her body, and her jeans were a bit looser than before. The one time she could give two craps about her weight, she started to lose some. Pointless, Agnes, why are you thinking about this right now, you have to find a car, get in, and drive somewhere. You probably have second degree burns on your hands, you have no id, no passport, no nothing, and the only person you are now connected with is a possible British outlaw who says he is a spy, and you believed him.

Then, about a mile or so away, to the far right, she caught a glimmer of something shiny.

Like a giant Lego, but not. She was too far to see, she stopped for the first time since she began running. It was hard to take a breath, she was actually heaving, hands on her knees, but she kept looking at the blob of color, reflecting the light. She covered her eyes with her hands, using the envelope to shield the sun away. And there it was… a car.

“Run Agnes,” and started all over again.

Move it! Was the message she shot to her brain, down her nervous system, and to her feet. Suck it up. As she got closer, she saw it was a blue BMW Z3, with the hood down…

“Oh please!” she spewed as she reached the car. Really? This happens in real life? She looked to her left, then to the right. Nobody in sight, the road was empty. It’s like she had entered an alternate universe. Grant said, get in the car, and drive. Ok, here we go.

Agnes opened the driver’s side, slammed it shut, and looked at the beautiful car she now sat in. She saw the keys in the ignition, so she turned it on. The engine sounded like a lioness waking up, roaring at her. Both hands on the wheel, and another exhale. She put her foot on the accelerator ever so softly, she was shy with new cars.

Wow. She caught herself smiling.

Then, another gunshot went off.

“Focus Agnes,” she said to herself. She adjusted her rearview mirror, and saw someone coming at her, running, and… they were holding a gun. A man, no, then, two men…

“Drive,” Agnes whispered, hit the pedal, and veered right, onto the only road in existence.

Agnes drove. This was the last instruction Grant had given her. So, she was driving. What did she have to do now? The bloody envelope, literally covered in her bloody skin that fell off her hands, was jammed in her butt pocket, and there was nothing but sand, sun and heat for miles. There was a radio in the car… Grant had not forbidden her to listen to music. She needed something to keep her from going through a total mental collapse.

“Ok,” and she hit the satellite radio dial. On came DJ Tiesto, “Adagio for Strings”.

Agnes smiled, and sped up to eighty-five. Now the road was hers. The wind blew around her face and shoulders. Her life was not as bad as it appeared. Grant did not know her quite as well as he thought he did. For a split second, she felt like the woman she had always wanted to be. Free, powerful, and badass.

She heard a car behind her, the engine much more powerful than her blue baby. She looked in her left side mirror. A black Hummer sped towards her. Don’t panic, keep moving. Maybe this is the next step in the plan, Grant maybe forgot to tell her. She sped up to ninety-five. She glanced at the driver. It appeared to be the man who had been chasing her with the gun. No big deal, I have a fast car too buddy. If he’s a good guy, then, he won’t shoot at me. She saw a hand come out of the driver’s window, with a gun. He shot at her.

Agnes screamed, quite forcefully, but tried to focus on the road, not losing control of the very fast car she was driving. She floored it, hitting a hundred and twenty miles per hour. Adagio kept on playing, a different version of the remix this time. It calmed her down. It reminded her of when she practiced piano when she was a little girl. All sounds would void out, and she would focus on her breath, looking at the notes, measuring their speed and sound, feeling the keys vibrate under her fingers. The road started to get curvy, and in the distance, she saw the main interstate. Civilization. But where should she drive to?

“Grant!” she shouted.

The man in the hummer sped up and hit the bumper of her car. She held on tight to the wheel, forcing her to make a sharp right, back on the sand clearing.

The man fired two shots in a row. One hit her back tire. Now, her car started to spin out of control.

“Mierda!” she tried to stop the spinning, but she had not majored in tactical evasion and speed control. She was an artist! She took her foot off the accelerator and hit the break. The hummer was now circling her, as her car slowed to a swirling stop. Grant totally screwed her! What was she supposed to do now? Where was mission control so she could go and kick his ass?

Sand clouds covered her exteriors and interiors, making it impossible to make any smart decision. Should she run out of the car? He would point-black shoot her in the back, for sure. Target practice for kids. There was literally nothing except desert and more desert, rocky, dry mountains. The only important thing she had on her was the envelope in her back pocket. Was this what he was after? She would soon find out.

“Be cool.”

Out jumped the man from the hummer, pointing his gun at Agnes.

“Get out!” he shouted at her. Tall, black wavy hair, black stubble, olive skin. He sounded French. White button-down shirt, black dress pants, some fancy men’s shoes. There was a red stain on his shirt. Was that blood? Whatever it was, she did not want to be the next stain on his shirt. Agnes got out of the car and put her hands up. She couldn’t help but smell herself, God, it was like hot garbage from a pizza shop.

He pushed her against the car and searched her, grabbing her all over, making sure she was not armed. Then he placed the gun on her forehead.

“Who do you work for?” he clenched his teeth as he asked this question.

Agnes drew an enormous blank.

“I...don’t work for anybody.”

He pressed the gun hard against her head. She let out a sound of pain.

“Bullshit...who are you, why are you in this desert right now? Ah! Don’t play dumb with me, this is not a game.”

He looked her up and down but couldn’t see her eyes. He yanked her sunglasses off her face. She looked right at him, her heart pounding a million miles an hour. With the other hand he grabbed her throat.

“Listen to me girl, tell me who you are, and why you are here, because there is no way a stupid girl just happened to wander into the fucking desert in Yuma, when I am currently running the biggest drug smuggling operation from the Middle East to the West Coast.”

Agnes saw the kill in his eyes. She would die right then, right now, if she didn’t think fast.

The sun was lower in the sky. She was so hungry she may very well be hallucinating this entire scene, but she needed to focus, say something that sounded cool, but real, something that would stop a bullet making a new home in her brain. What useful information invaded her cerebral cortex but… her childhood games.

Her brother and her would play together, especially in the summer. She remembered for some bizarre reason, the times they would play together after church, when all of the kids would go into the playground, behind the school. She would always look out for him, and it was around that time they had started taking catechism classes. Stories of the saints were not super cool, and most of the time they all played cards, or threw paper airplanes at the priest trying to get them to read the bible. But the story of Saint Agnes had caught her attention. First of all, she had been named after this saint, so, everybody in class had started to make fun of her. But, she was curious, who was this Saint Agnes. The story of a beautiful virgin who had been persecuted as a young woman for her beauty and was killed because she refused to sleep with any man other than he whom she loved. She belonged to Jesus, in her mind, and she died for love. How amazing, to believe in someone you had never met, seen, or spoken to in person, and die for him. But, she was a Saint, so, she had spoken to him, and had seen him, and that triggered Agnes to believe in her dreams, even fantasies. In the playground, they made up games depending on the day, and that day, after church, they decided to play medieval times.

“I’m Saint Agnes, savior of the girls!” All the girls cheered her on, and her brother was teased by the nasty boys who did not like it when a girl led the games. Agnes went to her brother's rescue.

“Get away from him!”, she pushed the boy who had been punching her brother’s back away. A group of about five boys started to circle her, but she stood her ground and gave her first speech.

“I’m the commander of the army of saints and angels on this playground, and if you don’t back off, you’ll have no choice but to fight them, they who are invisible, who have superpowers, and who will… pull your hair at night!” She was not a saint, but she knew how to make little kids terrified of her. This memory of her bravery in the impossible, and the love for her brother, gave her the only idea she had to play.

“Saint Agnes”, she felt him squeeze her throat tighter and tighter.

He bit his lip and sneered at her response. Rich, a name of a saint, he thought. He scoffed at her. This added fuel to her fire.

“I work for the same guy you do,” Agnes said, with a tone of self-righteousness, astounding to him.

He rattled her and jammed the gun in her head once more. She screamed.

He cocked the gun.

“One more try, girly.” Agnes took a look at his wrist, and saw he had a tattoo of a dove. Was he religious, spiritual? It was worth a shot… no pun intended.

“My name is Saint Agnes, I work … as an undercover operative for MI6.”

He took a pause and loosened his grip.

This story was so implausible, even she knew now he definitely had the right to shoot her. But… he didn’t.

Agnes saw the look in his eyes shift from disbelief to… was that respect? She tried to loosen his fingers from her neck. He squeezed tighter.

“Hands down!”

Agnes panicked. Convince him Agnes, come on! Use your brain, use your voice.

“I was sent here to follow you... The CIA and MI6 are working together, all over your black-market drug deals, and any second now...any second, they’ll blow this place up if you don’t let me go.”

She moved her head closer to the gun, jamming it even harder against her skull.

“I dare you,” and she stared him dead in the eyes.

She had learned something from the Australian conman: the bigger the lie, the more believable it is. This was just so huge, she almost believed it herself.

He stared at her down.

“Shoot me if you want to, I have nothing to lose, but you do.”

She nailed it.

He let her neck go, put his gun down, and backed away, wiping his brow with his wrist.

“Get in the car,” he ordered her, as he walked away.

She opened the door and climbed up.

He opened the trunk, put his gun in a box, slammed it shut, and made a phone call.

Well, if she dies now, at least she got to drive her dream car, and pretend she was a saint He came around, opened the door, and hopped in the car.

“Welcome to the team,” he smiled as he said these words to her. Turned on the ignition, put on his sunglasses, and skirted on the sand, towards the road.

Agnes had her mouth open the whole way to the main road.

She sat back, and said one thing, “Holy cow.”