To sleep perchance to dream?
She once had been called Evelyn Salt. It wasn't the name she had been born with but it was the name she had been called the longest. She had once had a husband and a small silly dog. She wore size six dresses and suits and her feet were a size seven. She had done well in school and graduated with honors from both her high school and college. She then went to work for her country. She became a CIA agent and never wavered in her service to America even under torture. She had been a Russian sleeper Agent. She had been Called. She had lost everything she had cared for.
The Spymaster had deliberately exposed her. He kidnapped her husband, her Michael. After she "completed" her mission she came to Russia, hoping against hope that he would be alive; that somehow she could save him, like he saved her. Then the spymaster had him killed. Her husband who had loved her unconditionally. Who gave her foot rubs after work and burned everything he tried to cook. Whose eyes lit up when she walked into a room and when he talked about his work to her he always started using those big gentle hands in extravagant gestures and lapsed into his native German tongue. The man who had rescued her out of an oriental prison by never giving up on her till the political powers that be had traded a political prisoner for her. The man who had forgiven her for her lies when they first met. The man she had warned that she was not as she seemed. She was not supposed to have gotten married. She was not supposed to have married Michael Krause the sweet German Arachnology expert with sweet eyes and iron determination.
When they killed her husband she had a choice to make. She could try to save Michael; she would have to kill the man holding a gun to his chest before his finger tightened on the trigger. She would have to fight and kill the seven men in the room, including the spymaster, than fight her way out of the bunker. The percentage of her succeeding without both of them dying was very low. Or she could keep her cover and let her husband, her Michael, die. When they killed her husband the women who had answered to Evelyn Salt died in agony along with him, but she kept her cover.
The Spymaster said she was his greatest creation. Like many "greatest creations" in literature she attacked and killed him. She killed the man who killed her husband and all the rest of her "brothers" on the barge. She killed her former CIA partner, another of the Spymasters creations who had set her husband into the Spymasters crosshairs and prevented him from completing his objective. She'd killed many people. She would kill many more before she was finished eradicating the rest of the Spymasters "creations"
She jumped into the Potomac River from the CIA helicopter. She managed to turn herself so that she entered the water in a controlled dive. It hurt less than jumping from truck to truck but it still hurt. All the injuries from during the earlier fight were screaming insults at her. She ignored them. She was so tired she wanted to cry but she would keep going without sleep for another thirty-four hours before she stopped and slept. She ran thru the trees until she hit a hiking trail; almost two hours later she left the trees completely and entered the park entrance area and spotted the gift shop. Disabling the alarm and jimmying the lock open with a rusty piece of wire only took about one point five minutes. Fatigue made her a little slower than usual. She had the cameras off before they caught more than a moving shadow on film. A cleaning cart right inside the entrance offered thick yellow gloves. Then she went shopping. A back-pack and several first-aid kits were first up on the counter, a shirt, a hoodie and baseball cap with the camp logo were put on immediately along with thick strapped sandals and khaki pants. Then she got a tourists guidebook to the area and laid it on the checkout counter as well. Granola bars, only a few from each container on display, a tool/knife combo, several bottles of designer water, a small box containing a water purifier pump, two extra shirts, a rain poncho, matches, a waterproof watch and a notebook with an attached pencil were placed in the black backpack. A black fanny pack ended up containing a lighter with spiders on it, an extra knife, and sunglasses, bug spray, sunscreen, Chap Stick, a flashlight and a dozen different colored bandanas. She left the camera off but locked the door and rearmed the alarm as she left.
The yellow rubber gloves were tucked into the large front pocket of the red hoodie. Then she headed back into the trees and walked till she hit River Road. From there she walked till she saw a grocery store walked up to an old blue car in the surveillance systems blind spot, popped the lock with her knife and hotwired it and headed to the nearby town of Rockville. In Rockville she broke into a Laundromat called Sims, stealing the money in the safe and getting several changes of clothes. Then she hotwired a different car and drove the twelve hours it took to get to Detroit, Michigan. That was where she hoped she would find her next lead.
Six months later she had a list with 47 more names on it and two large maps dotted with different colored stickers. Safe houses, money deposit boxes, weapon depot and the initial drop points of other sleeper agents it was all on the maps. Most of the information she gathered she sent to Agent Peabody, but some of it she kept to herself, especially about the money.
Ω
The florescent lights in Tesco shone brightly above a woman with black hair worn long and loose, fake glasses perched on her nose to draw attention to brown contact lens covered eyes which concealed blue irises that were watching a small boy. The first thing the women once called Evelyn Salt had noticed about the boy was that he was very small; the second thing she noticed was his messy black hair. The third thing she noticed about him in that first glance was the thing that caused her to decide to kidnap him; he had a hand shaped bruise on his left shoulder just visible through the over large collar of his ratty t-shirt. Most people wouldn't have noticed or perhaps brushed it off as a trick of the iridescent bulbs lighting the aisles, but she didn't. She followed the horse-faced blonde as the women steered her cart through the cleaning aisle. She watched her coo at the blond toddler in the child seat sucking on a lolly; he was almost too large to fit in the seat. The two little boys didn't look anything alike and the smaller boys' resemblance to the women was superficial. She watched the woman pile an inordinate amount of cleaning products into the cart and she knocked several canisters over so the women didn't see her watching. She noticed the little boy flinch at the noise and glance up at the women. His body language screamed fear. He looked like a very sad, lonely boy.
He vaguely reminded her of a picture she had once seen of Michael as an overly precocious child; all large, solemn, intelligent eyes in a small face with a small nose and messy hair. Michael had told her how lonely it had been to be so smart and odd while so very young. See him read the cans on the shelf, small finger not quite touching the cans surface, little mouth sounding things out silently, definitely smart since he is only four at most. He also reminded her of when she had been small. He knew she was watching and he watched her back without seeming to watch at all. He also wasn't cowering or cringing even though she knew that being in the power of an unpredictable and dangerous adult was terrifying. She had never been the cringing type either. She felt tear prickle at her eyelids as she covertly stared at the opportunity she might not have, a child, like mike and herself combined. Not being able to live the normal life of an average woman with her husband and being able to experience the joy coming from raising her own child because Mike was dead and she was raised a spy. She had been robbed of so many possibilities because of who she was and what she had been thought to be. Her eyes hardened she wouldn't be robbed of this.
Ω
The woman had been watching them. Harry didn't know why and didn't really care why as long as she stayed far enough away that she couldn't hit him. Harry had it down to a science how close someone had to be to land a hit on him after being with the Dursleys all his young life but that wouldn't be happening to him while Outside. Harry liked being Outside, in public, where there were lots of people. Being outside meant that Uncle Vernon could not hit him, and Aunt Petunia could not scream at him without attracting attention. Even Dudley was told to behave somewhat when he was Outside.
"No, no, no want puff cereal!" cue Dudley's' false tears; at almost four Dudley was a champion of crocodile tears. Hitting wasn't allowed Outside but crying (but only from Dudley) couldn't be helped according to Aunt Petunia because her 'dinky Duddles was sensitive'. Harry wasn't quite sure what 'sensitive' meant but if it had meant anything like 'nice' Harry didn't believe it of Dudley.
Harry had long ago found that it was best to be out of sight whenever Dudley was unhappy. The best thing of all was to do everything he could to let the Dursleys pretend that he was not even there. Harry glanced around at the shelves, staying out of Aunt Petunias' way while she soothed Dudley with promises of various toys and goodies. A very tiny spider has made a tiny web up on the second highest shelf. Harry did not like sleeping in the cupboard with spiders, but liked killing them less. If he put them out of his cupboard they would be smashed by Aunt Petunia. The tiny little spider twirled its tiny legs around a speck in its delicate web and Harry wondered what it had caught that was so small.
Oh, I'm sorry," the woman said as her cart ran right into Aunt Petunia "I wasn't paying attention to how much room I had. I thought I could get by."
"That's quite alright," Petunia tells her in a falsely sincere way. Aunt Petunia hates to be bothered but she hates seeming rude even more.
"Are both these handsome boys yours?"
This little Angel, Dudley, is mine," then Petunia gestured towards Harry. "He's my sisters' son. She died in a drunken car accident and he ended up with us. We do what we can for him," Petunia sighed and adopted her 'good Christian charity' face that she used when speaking of her own goodness towards others.
"How kind of you," the women praised and she smiled but only with her lips. Harry could tell that she was lying but Aunt Petunia puffed up with pride.
"Well I have lots to do so I really must dash, I hope you get everything you need," the women said with her lips only smile and she trundled past and away with her cart.
Harry refocused his eyes on his fascinating spider. Petunia Dursley narrowed her eyes as they followed where Harry was looking and she scowled. "I really must complain. Nasty filthy bugs on the supermarket shelves I mean really," and she stepped forward and raised her hand to hit out at the spider.
"It's an arachnoid, a spider, not a bug. Sometimes they can be poisonous and bite Aunt Petunia maybe you should just tell the manager," Harry spoke up quickly, hopefully stopping her from squashing the spider.
Petunia whirled around and cuffed the back of his head, hard, "Do not tell me what to do young man," she huffed; but she stalked towards the shopping cart and started walking away.
"Don't worry Mr. Tiny Spider she won't hit you now but maybe you should hide away a little better. Sometimes I wish I could hide a little better from her too," Harry sighed to himself, then turned around and trotted after his aunt reluctantly.
On the other side of the shelves the woman who used to be known as Evelyn Salt made up her mind. She would take the boy and save him like nobody had ever saved her except Michael. She would save him for Michael and for herself and even for himself. She headed towards the children's' clothing section and went to the girls side. Easter was fairly soon and there was a selection of beautifully frilly dresses. She picked up one with yards of white ruffled skirts trimmed in mint green silk ribbon and a large white floppy brimmed hat with a broad ribbon of mint green. She picked out a packet of lace edged white socks a pair of white Mary Jane shoes and then on a whim (and a remembrance of a sharp desire for a toy of her own as a child) she picked out a dark brown bunny with a richly blue bow tied around its neck. Then she picked out a relatively simple white sundress patterned with large red strawberry's and puffed sleeves that came with a white turtle necked undershirt. A packet of hair clips shaped like bows and a bright red headband with a white flower on it ended up in the cart as well. She headed towards the checkout station after assuring herself that the little boy was still in the store with his Aunt. After buying the grocery's she grabbed her largest purse from her car trunk and loaded it with supplies and a few of her purchases. She brushed her hair up into a high pony tail, added a coat and discarded her glasses, then headed back inside.
Salt waited until the noxious blonde woman and her spawn were deeply involved in the toy aisle before she made a move. The woman had left her nephew at the end of the aisle telling him to stay like he was a dog not a boy. As soon as she was sure the woman was completely absorbed in toy negotiations with her child Salt ceased to pay attention to the price differences between the two products she had been holding and came around the corner. She pricked the boy with a syringe full of a drug that induced euphoria and near instant muscle relaxation. He didn't even have time to be startled before he collapsed into her arms. She plopped the ball cap from the Washington state park store onto his head, scooped him up and cradled him close. She headed toward the restrooms at a fast walk as the boy cuddled closer and let loose a soft giggle. She smiled at the store employee near the bathrooms and told her, "When she's got to go she has to got to go now," and the woman laughed.
Inside she stripped him of his clothes and noted the numerous bruises on his arms and a yellowing bruise covering his left buttocks. She quickly stripped the tags off the clothes and dressed the boy in the strawberry sundress, socks and shoes. She swiped a bit of her concealer on the boys' scarred forehead and then brushed his hair back and secured it with the headband. She bundled the clothes into her bag and walked back out. "OH, didn't quite make it huh?" the women employee commiserated.
"We're still working on potty training still and she did just wake up. I'm visiting family in the area and the long drive from the airport knocked her out." Evelyn lied.
"From America it sounds like," the women commented.
"Seattle to be precise, it's nice to meet you but we've got to get going." Evelyn walked away and on the way out of the store noticed the scrawny aunt beginning to look around for her nephew but it was too late she was out the door and pulling away before Petunia Dursley thought to tell management that her nephew seemed to have disappeared.