Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 15-Lynn

15

Lynn Kramer

Agent: 53

Mission: Protect Citizens of Quarter 9

Location: Quarter 9

Date: August 31st

Time: 2400

I still

can't

breathe.

By the time I've regained my wind, I can no longer feel the faint beats of feet down the tunnel. It's a wasted effort. I know that, but it doesn't stop me from pushing myself into the darkness anyways, listening for anything that could confirm that they're still within my reach. Nothing. Not even the rustle of air touching the man's cloak. Agent Hood is gone.

I clumsily yank the communicator from my belt, taking giant, wheezing breaths. I press down on the call button but don't waste time waiting for a response. "Rap! Rap do you read me? They took him Rap. We were spotted!" Nothing for a moment. And then, Rap's strangled voice. I don't bother mouthing the words, I'm practically yelling them into the tiny little device, begging someone to read me.

"Lynn, Lynn what's wrong? Are you hurt?" Rap asks.

"They took Hood, Rap. The King's found us, they took him." My breathing is unsteady and the more I try to calm myself down the louder it gets. My hands are shaking, as I clutch the device to my chin. The communicators are meant to read speech through even the tiniest movement of the lips. But now, with my consistent rambling, I can only imagine how frantic I must sound.

"Calm down, Lynn. Explain what happened," Rap demands, voice taking on a more commander-like quality now that he knows I'm alright. I take a giant breath to relieve myself but it doesn't help. Quickly, mumbling over the words, I explain all of what's happened. Rap doesn't interrupt until I've finished completely.

"Are the rest of the people alright?" He asks finally.

I nod, though he can't see me. "For now."

"Then Lynn, they need to be moved. If they know of your location, they'll only send more. They're ruthless." As if I don't already know that. I can't seem to stop shaking, although the voice in the back of my head snips at me to keep my cool. What will Rap think, if I can't even handle the simplest of attacks? My chest feels heavy when I'm shaking so hard. My mother was in the midst of a raging war and she died in an explosion of gunfire. How minimal this is compared to that. Then why am I still shaking? Why?

"Where can we take them then?" I ask, wiping a drip of sweat from my brow. My eyes have refocused on my surroundings, and the area is shrouded in darkness. The flashlight I had been holding during our investigation remains in the back of the tunnel. I must've dropped it, through my horror. Struggling to see (ignoring the urge to chew my fingernails, as I often do when I'm nervous) I stretch out both arms, trying to gain a sense of direction. We came from the south.

"Is there anywhere else you can take them in the city?"

I struggle a moment before answering. "Not that I can think of," I say. "Hood knows this place better than I do." Or knew this place better than I do, because he could very well be shackled over a roasting fire, bleeding into the flames, for all The Kings could care. A sour taste erupts in my mouth and I spit.

I can feel Rap's indecision, even through the communicator, and he takes several minutes before he responds. "You need to abort the mission Lynn," he mutters finally. "With Hood gone, I'm sending in reinforcements to secure the citizens and guide them to the outskirts of the city."