Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 7-Lynn

7

Lynn Kramer

Agent: Fifty-three

Mission: Not Applicable

Date: August 24th

Time: 1300

I used to be afraid of monsters, when I was a little girl. So afraid, in fact, that I had my father board up the bottom of my bed.

Of course, this was just a phase. I grew out of it eventually, but there were always those nights where'd I'd steel myself and look below. And even though there'd be nothing lurking in the blackness, I always convinced myself that there was something. Although I never knew what.

But now I know that I was right. About monsters. Because they do exist.

For once, I manage to move the punching bag. Even if my knuckles are cracked and bleeding, I feel nothing. I am nothing but fire, seething as I crackle. I don't burn, release any of my sorrows. Nothing I should do. Maybe that's what scares me the most. I just punch and punch. And kick and kick, until I can't help but feel like some type of human Godzilla.

I've been in the training room since eight o'clock. Naturally, I find it as a way of escape. That heavy smell of sweat mixed with metal. Effort. Enough effort that the world might just cave for a few moments. Might just go away.

I suppose, all things considered, I ought to know the difference by now. Between watching someone wheeze out their last sustaining breath, and having the words hit you square in the chest; a ton of bricks. From firsthand experience, I can tell you that the latter tends to be more bearable. Less mental upset involved.

But I still can't seem to shake the image of Commander Pyle's face, caked in dried blood, from my mind. I didn't know her all that well, to be frank. There was just always that one thing. That look. Like I was on the same level as her, somehow. Like she knew what I'd grow up to be.

Drop it, I think through gritted teeth. My knuckles burn. The Commander's dead.

And that's all there is to it. Someone else will give me my first mission. No one else will stare at me in that same way. And this new someone...

You're happy, aren't you? I keep thinking. Because I know Rap deserves it, and I know that he's wanted it for so long now. He's perfect. I just don't think he had this in mind, given the circumstances. He's been pretty much loaded this last day, buckling down to get the security systems back online. I'm not even sure that he knows what it'll take to keep the Kings away for good, but it's a start. They've already broken in once, haven't they? Who's to say they can't do it again?

Frustrated, I startle the punching bag with a few more solid hits, before stashing my gloves away for the day. Blood runs down the sides of my hands from cuts I've made in my knuckles, but I don't care anymore. I cross to the other side of the room and wipe it with a towel, just as a beep sounds from overhead. An announcement follows.

"Please report to the cafeteria immediately for a Commander announcement," the voice demands. It's monotone and robotic. Meaningless. It begins repeating the same sentence, over and over.

I sigh and head for the door while I shake out my bruised knuckles. It's probably standard, what Rap's going to say. We all know what's happened. How could you not, when gossip is the only thing that people can look forward to around this place? It's like wildfire. There's no use avoiding it.

Taking my time while gathering my things, I obey the announcement, slipping into a line of other agents crowding up the hall. We're not the first ones to enter. All of the tables are full when I peer inside, so I take my spot with the others against the back wall. More file in beside me.

When the entire cafeteria is swarmed with agents, my eyes fall upon the center of the room, and the small block of wood that Rap is standing on. He looks different than usual. Not just from the professional commander uniform, but his hair is combed back, and his shoulders are square. Like he...tried. His hands are together in front of him.

This is definitely not the Rap I know.

"Thank you all, for interrupting your schedules to come here today," he says when the room's gone silent. There's no need for a microphone, or shouts to calm everybody down. We're all hanging onto his every word. It's not every day that a new Commander pops up. "As we all know by now, I've been chosen to take the role of the new Commander, after Commander Pyle's untimely death."

"I, myself, was unprepared for such attack, but I think we can all be thankful that there were hardly any other casualties at the King's hands." He straightens up a little more and rolls his shoulders before continuing. He looks nervous.

"In light of what has happened, I will do my best to be the dedicated, hardworking Commander that Commander Pyle was. And in her footsteps, I will take all means necessary to ensure your safety." He clears his throat lightly and reaches up to push a hand through his hair. To have so much control...so much say...It's desirable. But it's certainly no walk in the park. The fate of all of these people—America—in your hands. Rap's never been anything but an agent; a training instructor. He probably isn't used to addressing everyone out front. In fact, he's always been more on the quiet side when it comes to groups.

In between silences, I can't help but gaze out and notice the dozens of agents gathered in the room. They all seem to cling to their particular age group (for instance, I see a group of middle-aged men and women sitting together) as if they're all members of the same family.

I've always known that the ACA is split into divisions based on age category (teen, young adult, middle aged, etc.) and skill set, but it's a little strange seeing everyone clustered like that. As if anyone else might as well be a complete stranger.

My eyes continue to stray and they focus in on a familiar face, across the room. His face is paler than usual, and light shadows darken the bags of his eyes. His hair is messy, sticking up in all directions, as though he took no care to addressing it.

I've started chewing my nails. I stop immediately. A pang of guilt threatens to burst from my chest.

I hadn't meant to be listening in, really, but after Agent Hood took off down the hall (refusing to answer my consistent questions through his communicator, I should add) I knew something must've happened. When, what must've been by accident, his communicator clicked to audio.

It was hard to hear much in the commotion, but I'm sure there was a voice. A man's voice, and then a loud thud as a body crashed to the floor. And what came after...

Like a dying animal clinging onto his last breath, it was enough to rip my soul to shreds. It's as if I was there with him, watching it all lay out. I bet there was lots of blood. Lots of it. If there's one thing I know, without an edge of a doubt, it's that I'd rather have seen all the pain on Agent Hood's face than have had to listen to those tortured sounds.

Or... I didn't have to. I could've clicked off my communicator and ended it all right then. But I didn't. I allowed myself to listen. Because...because...I don't know.

However, Agent Hood looks passed tears now. There's something there that I can't explain.

Before I can give myself more time to dwell on it, I turn my attention back to Rap, who has gone on. "I think it would be in everyone's best interest to carry extreme caution over the next few days," he's saying. "The Kings could come back. They are skilled. They could slip past us again, without anyone even knowing. That's why there is no slacking off." He emphasizes the word 'no'. Then he follows with one of those long looks that Commander Pyle used to give. "Be careful," he says. "Everyone dismissed."

The room is silent as we file out. I avoid looking at Agent Hood as he exits a few people in front of me.

I remember the woman at my mother's funeral, how she collapsed, choking on her own blood. I remember her funeral, a week later.

I shut my eyes and clench my fists. I'm not going to let this opportunity pass me. I'm going to go after them.

And Rap can't stop me.