Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 1-Lynn

1

Lynn Kramer

Agent: Fifty-three

Mission: Locate Agent Forty-seven and return to HQ

Date: August 21st

Time: 1300

THE CITY WAS A CITY, ONCE. Or so they tell me.

Here, the skies are gray with smoke and ash, thick with the scent of beer. I force myself on despite the searing burn in my chest. Your time is limited, I remind myself. I only hope I don't attract attention as I stumble forward with the crowd.

Where Division 11 had smelled of life and trees, Division 14 is a wasteland. Nothing can disguise the bullet holes and scorch marks staining the pavement. I can see the effort put into each coat of paint and splotch of ink--as though the government tried to scrub the past away. By now they must realize that no amount of redecorating can change what's happened here.

The streets are packed this early. Every now and then I'll risk an upward glance, only to drop my head again. I know what I'll see. More men sprawled across the roadside, decaying in the scorching sunshine. That woman slumped against the building, picking at one last morsel of bread. How tightly she hugs it to her chest.

The dead children bother me the most. It isn't just their bodies, still and cold. It's the solidarity. They sleep alone.

Oblivious men push past them, shrouded in an alcohol stench.

I'd always expected a run-in with one of them. I sense it coming.

"You, girl!" someone shouts at me from the opposite side of the street. I make a quick conclusion in my head (ten meters away, scratchy voice with an obvious slur) but keep my eyes on the road. He's approaching. I ignore my instincts this time. I turn on my heel to face him.

My analysis, even without sight, has prepared me for the man. He's somewhere in his sixties, I'd guess, hobbling as fast as his knobby legs will allow. His mouth is open wide in a toothy grin and his clothes are tattered. I can just make out the American flag on his t-shirt. Ironically, that image remains the most intact.

"You..." he repeats when he reaches me. He pauses for breath, wheezing slightly. "I've never seen you," he says, squinting. "And I'd best remember a face like that."

I hardly believe him but don't say anything. My chest tightens and I step back, not before his hand finds my wrist. "Where you come from, girl?" he says. "It's best not to lie."

His breath reeks. I'm feeling clammy. He's caught me. Surely there aren't newcomers often. "I've got to be going," I say, moving away. "Excuse me."

I take more steps back. Small, stiff ones, noticeably different from the common gait. The man's eyes seem to have refocused now, just a bit.

I stumble back a few more paces until I've disappeared in the crowd.

With a huff and a shake of the head, I move on.

I'm hardly familiar with the city's layout, but I know better than to wander blindly. The assignment is simple: Locate Agent Forty-seven and return him safely to Headquarters. (A rather admirable first mission, if I do say so myself. Most newbies get sent on Division check-ups and supply runs.) I've been told Forty-Seven's being held up in the vicinity, which means he can't be more than an hours walk in any direction. I look around, desperate for clues to guide me, but spot nothing. Civilians might be my only help but considering my last encounter, I have no intention of speaking to anyone.