The Fifth Agent

Chapter Eleven

Home. That word could mean anything. For some, it's a place; for others, it's a person. For me, it was a small stone cottage nestled in the Appalachian Mountains in North Carolina. After the incident that happened three years ago, I asked Henry, the director, if he could help me build a place just for myself, somewhere I could get away. He happily obliged. 

After about an hour of flying towards the rising sun, I decided that the others weren't coming after me, and scouted out a park to land in. Looking around after landing, I could barely see a gigantic metal arch in the distance. 

"Oh," I muttered to myself. "I'm in St. Louis." There was no one currently in the area that I was in, which was good, as my wings were still out. Retract, I whispered. The hissing and clicking of metal sounded as my wings folded away into the metal slots in my back that were now part of me. 

Light was slowly filtering through the trees as I headed off toward the nearest gas station. Walking on the sidewalk, people looked at me curiously, but quickly diverted their attention as I caught their gaze. I must've been a sight to see, with wind tossed hair and a dirty, ripped, skin tight suit. 

Finding a gas station, I quickly walked in and over to the cashier. Glancing at me warily, the teenage boy asked, "May I help you?"

I rolled my eyes. Sheesh, it wasn't like I was going to rob the kid, or something. Leaning against the counter, I looked at him. "Do you know of any buses traveling to North Carolina?"

He scrunched his eyebrows together. "Not that I know of. But-wait-," He rushed out as I turned to go, "I can look it up." The teenager gestured toward his phone. 

I sighed, glancing at the clock. It was already 9:24 in the morning, and I needed to get going before the others started to call out a search party for me. "Okay, sure. Thanks."

Nodding his head, the cashier typed away on his phone, and after a few minutes looked up, grinning triumphantly. Raising an eyebrow, I motioned for him to say something. "Well?" 

Looking down at his phone, he said, "There is a bus leaving at 9:45 today, traveling to Franklin, North Carolina as part of a tour that travels to rural areas. It's currently loading at a Holiday Inn hotel a few blocks over. Does that work?"

A slow smile crept onto my face. Franklin was about half an hour from where I lived, and I frequented it often to buy necessities when I was home. "That's perfect." Nodding my head at him, I turned to go. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. Anytime." Walking out, the little bell on the door jingled, which caught my attention. Glancing up at it, I noticed an elderly woman staring at me, while holding a newspaper in her hand.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I grabbed a newspaper off of the stand near the door before quickly hurrying away down the sidewalk to where I could the sign for 'Holiday Inn'. Looking down at the paper in my hands, my breath caught as I saw what was on the front cover. 

It was a picture of me. The one on my I.D., to be exact. Beneath was the caption, "Missing Agent: If seen, contact us Immediately", with a phone number underneath. Crap. How did they get this out so quickly? This was bad, really bad. The hotel came into view, and as soon as I saw the bus, I took off sprinting towards it.

Waiting in line as the bus was filling up, I looked behind me to see police cars in the distance. My heart dropped. Turning back, I saw that it was my turn, and quickly gave the bus driver the ticket that I had purchased with the little money I had on me. All my things were still in the plane, I guess, if the others had grabbed it off my motorcycle.  Luckily, I didn't have anything important inside, just a change of clothes and some weapons and other necessities. 

Walking quickly to the back of the bus, I sat down in an empty seat near the back exit. One man tried to sit next to me, but got the idea when I glared at him, and he backed off. It wasn't until all the other seats were filled that a middle-aged woman came to my row, and I grudgingly let her sit down next to me. 

After two minutes, we finally took off, and I looked out the window to see the police cars parked in the parking lot, talking with the person who I had bought the ticket from. Looking quickly away, I studied the lady besides me. She looked to be in her early forties, with light blond hair, and kind brown eyes. I noticed with surprise that there wasn't a ring on her left hand. It must've been a lone vacation, then.

The woman noticed me staring, and smiled, offering her hand. "Hello, my name is Marilyn Dubane." 

Shaking her hand, I smiled back. "Bentley Waters. It's nice to meet you."

The woman laughed, a tinkling sound that filled the quiet of the bus. "Well, as long as we're going to be seat mates for two hours, I guess we should at least know each other's names."

My smile widened. "Good point." Noticing that the knife that I kept hidden in my boot, was visible from it's spot that I had returned it too after the fiasco with my dad happened, I shifted in my spot to conceal it better. 

"So, Marilyn," I looked to where she was digging through things in her purse. "Vacation, huh?" 

Marilyn's eyes crinkled and she brought her hand out of her purse. Holding out her hand, she opened it to show two pieces of wrapped gum. "Gum?" After gratefully accepting, she popped her own piece in her mouth, and leaned back in her seat with a thoughtful look on her face. "Well, kind of. I'm a traveling journalist, and I thought that it would be a nice idea to visit places that weren't very well-known, and write about them and their treasures. So that's why I'm here."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "That seems like a fun job to have."

Marilyn laughed again. "Well, it does have its perks." Turning towards me, she asked, "And your purpose for the trip?"

I froze. I knew that this question would be coming, but had dreaded it. I didn't want to reveal anything more to Marilyn than I had to, so I just replied vaguely, shrugging. "I thought it would be fun." 

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but accepted the answer. 

---

After about two hours of making small talk, we pulled into a small bed and breakfast in Franklin, North Carolina. As the bus parked, I once again sucked in my breath as I saw a black SUV with the words "Intel and Black Operations Agency" in white on the side. Crap. The lady at the gas station must have told the police, who in turn talked to the person who was selling the tickets, and radioed in to the Agency, who sent agents to Franklin to bring me in. 

So the whole agency wanted to drag me back to the scientists? I frowned. That didn't make sense. Something was wrong here. What if I was wrong...? I shook my head. I had no time for second guessing. I needed to get going. 

Marilyn noticed my tense features, and looked at me worriedly. "Bentley, what's wrong?" 

I shook my head at her, and smiled sadly. "Nothing that you can help me with. It was nice meeting you, Marilyn. Good luck with the traveling journalist gig, and take care." And with that I pushed passed her to the back door exit, and escaped out the back.

Making my way hurriedly to a small alley that I knew was behind the bed and breakfast, I kept my head down. I had almost made it when I heard a voice behind me say my name. I froze. It came again. "Bentley? Is that you?"

Slowly turning around, I flinched at the scene that greeted me. The I.B.O.A. hadn't sent random agents to come and retrieve me. No. No, my five old teammates had come themselves.