Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 11-Lynn

11

Lynn Kramer

Agent: 53

Mission: Protect Citizens of Quarter 9

Location: Quarter 9

Date: August 27th, 2089

Time: 1000

Agent Hood seems to know where he's going, because I follow him all the way into the city without any need for directions. It's baffling, seeing a place in this kind of condition. I can't quit staring at the monstrosity of land laid out before us, although my eyes begin to tear. The smell is putrid here (like the whole place has been turned into a landfill) and I have to cover my nose as soon as we get within a hundred yards. Division 14 was nothing compared to the shape this place is in. At least that city seemed to be somewhat intact. This one looks like it's just been tossed aside to rot with the flies. And I can only imagine what the people must look like.

Although there are rows of debris shielding our way, the land here is barren and sandy red beneath my shoes. On instinct, I take a few silent steps forward on my toes, but then realize that we're still several hundred yards away from civilization, so I stop.

For about twenty minutes, I follow Agent Hood across the bare strip of land leading to the city. My eyes catch sight of three looming structures directly ahead, and as we draw closer I identify three leaning towers. Strange. I decide not to question it and bury my head in my shirt to block out the wind.

By the time we finally curve around the first building, dust has gathered in my socks and hair and I resist the urge to wipe myself clean of the small grains. Instead, I decide to let it be, hoping it will contribute to my disguise.

When Agent Hood and I enter the city, I'm overwhelmed by the blast of rotting flesh in my nostrils. I stop, stumble backwards and cover my nose with my sleeve. The dust has cut trails on my face, and I struggle to see through it. "What is that smell?" I ask, coughing as dust fills my lungs. Is this what it feels like, living in this place? Are you always filled with dust?

"See for yourself," Hood says. He doesn't point me in the right direction, he just keeps walking. While I make a valiant effort to clear my eyes of the tiny particles, there are a few things that I gather. First, the street is desolate. Only a few people walk along the edge of the road. I can see dust covering their hair and face, and most have abandoned wearing shoes. The three towers I had spotted earlier have grown closer, and through my dusty tears I can see them much better now. They're larger up close (much like the empire state building was, until they tore it down some years ago. Almost all of the landmarks and national monuments have been torn down to make room for land) but they have been covered in mounds of red sand. They're all leaning to one side, a possible result of erosion and they go in towards the street only some two hundred feet above us. I cringe, expecting the huge chunk of metal and sand to come crashing down. But it remains intact long enough for us to pass.

While my gaze has been primarily fixed on the towers, the stench in the air has increased, until I have to spit to get the taste out of my mouth. I turn, and nearly fall as my boot catches on something.

A dead man. I fight the urge to lurch back in fear, but I can't seem to take my eyes off of him. Them, rather because there's a pile of others lying over him, swarmed with flies, all bone skinny and struck with this same look of helplessness on their pale, lifeless faces. I feel like screaming but I tell myself that I can't. I feel like sprinting back to the motorbus, but I don't. I don't do anything.

"You don't think these people died from The -—"

"Kings?" Agent Hood finishes for me, coming up on my left shoulder. Unlike me, he remains unfazed by the heap of bodies. He almost looks bored. "People die from starvation all the time. It's just normal," he says.