Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 21-Lynn

21

Lynn Kramer

Agent: 53

Mission: Not Applicable

Location: ACA Headquarters, Quarter 1

Date: September 2nd, 2089

Time: 1200

"1:55, Fifty-three. You can do better than that," Kamal says, clicking the button on his stopwatch to reset.

I wipe a bit of sweat off of my forehead and heave a sigh. I've been through the course three straight times, and I've always come close to two minutes. I would've asked for a break (my heart is pumping vigorously) but I don't allow myself a moment to relax. If this is what Rap wants from me, then he's going to get it.

Shaking out my palms, I veer back to the beginning of the course and crouch down with my right foot forward, in ready position. After breakfast the other day, I came here, and for hours and hours on end I fixated myself with constructing this obstacle course, using bars, punching bags, and whatever else I could find in the training room. Kamal had agreed to help me out with it, and for the past hour we've finished preparing the station for me to go through.

Though my body is pulsing with adrenaline, my eyes are heavy with exhaustion from my obvious lack of sleep. I couldn't go to bed last night, despite the very little slumber I had gotten already. I just kept twisting and turning, until I couldn't take it any longer. I rose from the bed, went into the bathroom and stared into the mirror, at the little girl I found there. So this is who Rap thinks is weak? I thought, staring back into the green orbs. This little girl is the one who needs protection. I know—have always known—that Rap only wants the best for me. But there comes a time when he needs to realize I'm not just a little kid. I might be small, but I can take care of myself just fine.

I crouch down a bit more, while I wait for Kamal, clenching my knuckles into balls. There are rough callouses on them, from my hits to the punching bag, but I simply shake them out and prepare to take off. Kamal holds up a hand. I arch my back leg, ready. "Go!" He says, and taking his cue, I take off into the maze of obstacles, grabbing ahold of the metal bar to throw myself over the punching bag. I land with a light thud and race across the net (we use these in training rarely, when we're practicing escape tactics) careful to keep my feet from sliding into any of the holes. I did that the first time, and I'd lost about ten seconds struggling to pull my foot out of its deadly grasp.

After I've dived across the final inch of the net, I scramble on all fours under the pile of punching bags, aligned in a row over the top of me. If it were Kamal going through this course, he would have to find a way to get over them, whereas I'm just small enough to slide underneath. Army crawling, I push off with my feet and peek my head out the other side.

Three obstacles left. The hardest three of the entire course. A series of metal bars, laid out in the oddest of angles, crisscrossing over one another. There's no way to get around it, and I wouldn't have a good enough hand hold to pull myself over. Which means, I have to go through. They're like laser beams. If you run into one of the bars, you're wasting your time. Not to mention the nasty bruise it will leave.

Taking a moment to define my strategy, I loop my arm around the first bar, clutching it with my elbow. Then, I use my thighs to push off of one below me and gain enough momentum to dive around the next row. I swing towards them, releasing my handhold and spiraling into roll. I end in a crouch, with one hand on the ground. One more bar. I jump up, grab the bar in my blistering palms, and flip my legs over.

I breathe out steadily. Two more. I pause, eying the wooden board ahead with narrowed eyes. This one has always been the trickiest. It would already be hard enough with just a board, but just to add to the fun, there are at least ten knifes stuck into the surface. They're buried in pretty deep, but with all of my weight on them, they could go clanking to the ground with just a touch. It's all in my hands, this one.