Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 10-Nolan

10

Nolan Hood

Agent: 21

Mission: Protect Citizens of Quarter 9

Location: ACA Headquarters, Quarter 1

Date: August 26th, 2089

Time: 0800

Agent Fifty-three needs protecting. Or so Rap seems to think.

As soon as she was dismissed yesterday, he had a rather in-depth talk with me about keeping her covered when we're in Division 9. Something about staying together. No unnecessary risks. I hadn't really been listening. But even so, I wanted to tell Rap that he shouldn't worry about Fifty-three. That she was perfectly capable of defending herself. Of course, I just nodded and agreed to do as he says. The time for conversation seems way beyond me now, all I can think about is the possibility of avenging Commander Pyle. But if there is one thing, I guess this just confirms the relationship between Rap and Fifty-three. And a tight one at that.

After I was dismissed, I packed away all of the supplies I'll be needing and turned in for the night. But now, all I can think about is making my escape.

I feel bad for barging in (she hadn't answered my consistent knocking) because it's clear she's embarrassed. From the way her body is pulled into an awkward sitting position, and her hand is dangling out (grasping onto the air like she's just clasped onto someone's hand) I can guess what must've happened. A nightmare. And a vicious one. She shouldn't feel bad. I've been getting them constantly for the past three days.

When she sees me, her cheeks flush and her ears turn a rosy scarlet. Her tangled hair is almost completely loose from its bun now, and her green eyes are pierced with agonized terror.

"I -—I'm sorry. I didn't know you were sleeping," I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

"It's okay," she replies, breathless, wiping a drip of sweat from her forehead. Her cheeks are damp but I pretend not to notice.

"I was just coming to see if you had everything packed for tomorrow." I put my own backpack on the floor beside her dresser. It's filled with tattered clothes, a few water bottles, and enough crackers to sustain us for a few days (and as a precaution, two small blades in the front compartment). I figure anything else we can get while we're out there. After all, I know just the place.

"See for yourself," Fifty-three mutters, tossing me her pack. I catch it, unzip the top, and study her things. All clothes. Nothing special really. The only thing I see that catches my eye is in the very corner, as though it were purposefully stashed away.

It's a rag doll. Not too fancy (the dress is falling apart) but it's beady eyed stare is an endless dark pit, and a few locks of stringy hair fall apart beneath my fingers. I can tell she's noticed my taking to it, and I quickly avert my eyes before she can say something. She's still frazzled from her dream, but she's struggling to hide it. Her hands have been stuffed under her covers so I can't notice their shaking.

I toss her bag back to her after a few moments and don't say anything for a long time. Awkwardly, she gathers her hair in her hands and fixes it back into a bun. I feel like I need to say something, to make things less tense between us, but I can't find the words.

"Is your arm feeling any better?" I blurt out suddenly. Stupid, I think. Absolutely stupid. To bring up the injury that I gave her. I have to admit, I probably did take it a bit far at training the other day. I'd unleashed my anger all at once and now, it only serves as a harsh reminder. Probably not the best way to go into a mission together.