Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 14-Nolan

14

Nolan Hood

Agent: 21

Mission: Protect Citizens of Quarter 9

Location: Quarter 9

Date: August 31st, 2089

Time: 0600

I'm glad I'm not the one having to move. Even now, through the nausea and the fingers digging into my side, that's the one thing I can find pleasure in. That I've been given the courtesy of laying limply in the arms of my enemy as he pulls me away.

He could do a bit better with the bouncing though. I groan, hoping that he'll realize and hold me with a bit more care, but The King doesn't seem to hear. I groan again. Still, nothing.

I give a weak sniff of the air as we go. Moldy, filled with moisture. The sewers. I want to open my eyes to see for sure, but another wave hits me and I snap them shut. More bouncing. My feet catch on the rocky floor, and the man curses.

Without warning, I'm blinded by a sudden pain in my thigh, squeezing its burning fingers against my skin. Surely it intends to suffocate me, until the simple task of breathing becomes unbearable. I struggle for a moment, to see what's causing such immeasurable pain, but that only makes it sting worse. Another groan escapes, and the sound is like a screeching bullhorn, amplified. I struggle again, to undo the cause of such agony, but I can't take the movement. Suffocating to the point of unconsciousness, I am pulled down for the first time.

-v-

When I wake again, the pain is worse. Before it can come back to me, I let myself sniff the air again.

The moisture, gone.

The sewers, a memory.

My breaths come in short bursts. Already, the place is foreign, a cold wall pressing into my back and an unsettling dryness to the air. I've found myself blinking several times, before I'm forced to shield my face with my hand.

The room is entirely white. Ceiling, floor, walls...all white. It ends up taking a full thirty seconds for my eyes to adjust, and the red splash of color to meet my gaze like wildfire. A King, I think, breath catching as my eyes stare down the hood of my predator.

I should've had the common sense to keep my mouth shut. But the cloak hood has snapped to the side, settling upon my face, and it sends my heart into a frenzy. The look must be some sort of indication, because I can tell that whoever this is, they're smiling. I don't allow myself to look down, struggling to push aside the disgust that has risen within me.

The cloaked figure is sitting in a chair (also white, not to my surprise) but he rises the instant he catches my movement. There is an unnerving sensation in the air; a horrifying enclosure of blood red as The King lowers himself in from of me. His face is only inches from my own. I tilt my chin up a bit, to see if I can make sense of a face beneath the covering, but it remains hidden from my view.

My blood begins to boil when his breath (smoky and sour) blows into my face. I can see red spots at the edge of my vision, and I know it can't be from the cloak this time. The electric fingers have already begun working their way up my side, landing their meaty hands in my chest several times. I have to swallow to force the pain aside, to raise my head.

Finally the man beneath the cloak speaks in a ghost's whisper. "You and I both know -—"

I don't remember when I decided to slap him. But I do, and the smack rings in my ears several times before it fades. My palm stings from the force of such a hit, and the man is obviously caught off guard, because he kneels over and raises a hand to the side of his face.