AGENT 23 BLACKOUT (Agent 23 Book 1)

CHAPTER 33

While I sling the belt with a dozen grenades over my left shoulder, Agent 24 maneuvers the Jeep to within inches of Trailer 2. He keeps us close without bumping into the semi-truck. I lower my window and prepare to pull myself out onto the door frame. As my hand slaps the rooftop, another hand grabs my wrist.

I turn to see Kayla, tight-lipped and glassy eyed. "Please be careful."

I give her a careful nod. "I will, I've got this."

As she straightens her glasses, I harden my chin and try to make it look as chiseled as I remember my dad's, back when he was unconscious in the Mind Bender chair. As I turn away, Agent 24 smirks, and once I get my head outside and above the window, my granite chin melts under the pressure of what comes next.

Sitting on the open window frame, the wind pelts my face, ruffling my hair. I check one more time to make sure I secured the gun under my waistline. I did, so now I do something I've never done before. With the air howling around me, I push myself up and latch onto the luggage rack. Then I wrap my leg around the windshield and scoot my body onto the hood. Once turned around and facing Trailer 2, to still my hammering heart, I inhale several deep breaths. The wind molds my butt to the hood and my back to the windshield. Since I became Agent 23, I've done a lot of things I've never done before. I have a feeling this is the beginning of many exciting, hair-raising, and extremely dangerous things.

I glance back at Agent 24, and he gives me a nod. I don't look at Kayla because I don't want her to see my uncertainty. She needs to have confidence that I can pull this off. So do I.

It's time to do this, I tell myself, knowing there is no alter-ego. I'm Agent 23. I possess the skills and abilities downloaded from The Collective. This is all on me.

I'm Agent 23.

The wind screams past my ears as my hands press into the Jeep's hood. So far, the semi hasn't sped up, swerved, or made any evasive maneuvers. That means the truck driver hasn't seen us yet. Or in the curves a few miles back, that person didn't consider us a threat. Maybe the driver didn't see the Jeep parked inside the warehouse with the van? I don't know, but that's good. That means we're in the truck's blind spot, invisible to its side mirrors.

I turn over and get on my hands and knees, facing the windshield. This time, I see Kayla's bulging eyes. I want to give her a cute smile to reassure her, but I can't force myself to do it. Instead, I swallow and pivot around toward the rear of Trailer 2.

The air turbulence shakes me hard.

My heart hammers away. But I focus on the task at hand.

I nudge myself forward and freeze. The vibrating SUV, the fleeting road lines, and the rushing scenery forces me to a prostrate position.

There's a ladder on the back of the last trailer. It extends up and over to the roof. That's where I'll catch my ride.

Agent 24 nudges the gas and closes the gap between the vehicles to where they're almost touching. This is as good as it gets.

I stretch for the ladder's side rail, my fingers grazing the metal.

I try again, and this time, my hand claws at a rung, but I can't grab hold.

Below me, asphalt zips by.

Again, I reach out and miss the ladder altogether.

More determined to make the leap and not die, I lunge toward the truck with a terrified roar. One hand slaps the rung I'd been trying for and the other wraps around the side rail. With my heart exploding inside of me, I cling to the rear of Trailer 2, heaving for air to fill my lungs and courage to calm my nerves. With me in place, Agent 24 backs away but remains in the truck's blind spot.

Now, I start the climb up the ladder. I don't know what to expect when I get on top of the trailer. Probably sixty mile-an-hour winds since the truck is traveling about that fast.

One rung at a time, I amble up the ladder, sticking as close to it as possible.

The atmosphere feels charged with the intensity of the action, air, and movement. The truck rumbles down the highway, taking turns in stride. As I near the top edge, the wind lashes around the sides, whipping past me. The diesel's roar surrounds me and vibrates me to the core. My body trembles and my hands shake as I hold on with one goal in mind: to stay alive. If I fall, I'll smack the road and get tire thumped by my dad's Jeep.

Climbing onto the top side of a semi-truck blazing down the highway is tricky. It's the part where I swing my left arm over with a utility belt draped on my shoulder, one that's weighed down with hand grenades. If I accidentally snag a pin while in motion, things could go boom.

So, I transition with the utmost care.

Slowly, I locate the ladder's last rung, the one flat on the roof because the ladder curves up and over the top edge of the trailer. The second my head peeks over, I tilt my chin down and brace myself. I don't look ahead because the airstream slams into me with straight-line winds. With my head down, I focus on the last rung as I yank myself over and onto the top of Trailer 2.

I crawl until I get several feet from the rear edge, still looking down, trying to get the nerve to rise.

First, I push up on my hands and knees. Next, I maneuver into a crouch, my back bent, eyes set on the ridges that run up each side of the trailer's length. Finally, I stand braced against the wind, and I see the path ahead for the first time.

That's when I see my dad's fortified figure hunched over with his arms out for balance, his hands balled into fists. The sight jolts through me, the last thing I thought I'd see. But I guess the driver of the semi must have seen our Jeep after all, radioed to Zero, and then she sent my dad to get rid of me.

He stares at the utility belt on my shoulder and the hand grenades attached to it. He narrows his gaze and his mouth twists into an angry grimace. Then he swipes at the belt and tries to rip it from me, but I hold on as my momentum careens around his center of gravity. My body whirls out over the edge, over the highway, but instead of hitting the road below, I fly around, thrown further up the trailer. Now, I'm closer to my first objective, but miles from my second, which is reining in my dad and figuring out a way to knock him unconscious so I can get him off the moving vehicle.

As I rise again, more confident on top of the truck, I'm thankful I held on to the belt. But my breath seizes in my chest when I see the grenade in my dad's hand with the pin missing. He chucks it over his shoulder and marches toward me like tossing live explosives is an everyday thing.

Behind Trailer 2, tires squeal against the highway—in full view since Agent 24 put some space between the Jeep and semi to make sure I'm okay on top of the truck—which I'm not.

The Jeep lurches to the side as the grenade bounces past it and explodes in a fireball of smoke and shrapnel. Thankfully, it missed.

But Agent 1, my dad, charges toward me, intending to throw me to the roadside too. The only thing I know to do is run away from him toward my first objective. I have to rig the grenade belt to destroy the Mind Benders. After that, if I can hit him hard enough to give him a blackout, hopefully I can save him and free him from Zero and The Collective for good.