AGENT 23 BLACKOUT (Agent 23 Book 1)

CHAPTER 37

At the sound of automatic gunfire, my dad pulls his punch and glances toward the rear of Trailer 1. In the distance, the Jeep, with Agent 24 and Kayla, disappears around a curve on the mountainside road. They're falling back because the grenades blew off the back doors of the trailer, leaving the interior exposed, making it possible for Zero's guards to stand at the opening and unleash a hellfire of lead on the people responsible for destroying the Mind Benders. Agent 24 doesn't have a choice. He has to pull back or else they'll be easy targets.

After the explosion, the semi-truck still has wheels on the back of Trailer 1. Based on memory, I recall the first trailer having double axles with two tires on each end of them. So, if the grenades blew away the last axle, it should have another on which to roll. That fact is obvious, since the truck is still in transit. That being said, Zero must not want to risk stopping. If she knows Agent 24 is now on our side, she'll want to get as far away from him as possible.

My dad turns to me. "Looks like your friends are abandoning you. Now, it's just you and me. Man against boy."

"I don't want to fight you."

"It's a little late for that. This is round two. Ding, ding."

He hurls a powerful hook, aimed at my chin.

I remember the last time we went at it, moments ago, and it wasn't pretty. My dad dominated me. He jabbed, crossed, hooked, and basically had his way with me. When I tried to return fire, he blocked each punch as if it were child's play. Round one went to the old man. But this time he's injured, which means I have a chance.

Immediately, as his fist nears my chin, I morph into Agent 23 mode. The fight slows down, and I anticipate his next few moves. I see his plans as if he's telling me what he's going to do before he does it. It's like I'm reading from The Collective's playbook. After the right hook, his next move is a left hook, and then he wants to go for the knockout with an uppercut. Seems like an act of desperation. He's afraid he won't win if the match goes into the later rounds. With that in mind, I'm seeing a fight pattern with Collective agents. It seems they love to resort to punishing uppercuts, as well as strangle holds. They relish a quick victory, but I suspect it's my dad's injury that makes him desperate. He wants this fight to end as soon as possible.

My counter is swift and efficient.

I block his hook with my forearm, draw in close, and smash my elbow into his abdomen. As he gasps, I whirl and nail him with a back-fist to the cheek. Just as fast, I spin away from the danger zone. I don't want to stay too close to him. I want to use my speed as an advantage. As I put distance between us, I'm about to add a front kick to the mix to throw him off balance for an even bigger roundhouse, but he charges into me, and drives me to the trailer top. He hasn't seen me in action. He was unconscious in the back of the van at the fort, and in the Mind Bender chair at the warehouse. But he knows I received a partial download from The Collective's martial arts and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu skills, with a little judo tossed in for good measure. His wrestling move sends us to the deck toward the front of the semi as the truck continues to haul it down the highway with Agent 24 and Kayla in the Jeep, still out of sight to avoid gunfire.

My dad rustles on top of me, his fingers clawing at my throat. I know what he's going for, so I swing my knee over and hold him off from getting too close. But he shoves my leg aside and presses in against me. His hands strain to clench my neck like a hangman's noose. The growling snarl on his face speaks volumes. It says everything. He wants to kill me. My dad wants to murder me.

My eyes dart about, searching for an angle to defend myself. I need to gain an advantage that will counter his overall strength.

That's when my gaze dials in on his wounded shoulder—the puncture from the grenade shrapnel.