Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 22-Nolan

22

Nolan Hood

Agent: 21

Mission: Not Applicable

Location: Unknown

Date: September 4th, 2089

Time: 0900

The one moment I think I'm awake, I'm really in a nightmare.

The blond boy is beating me again, but this time he's got a gun, and he's resorted to firing round after round into my flesh. He keeps asking me something. And no matter what I do, I can't hear anything but a faint murmur, like he's speaking down a long tunnel. I keep telling myself that he'll have to run out of bullets eventually, that the pain will have to come to an end soon. His shots never cease. He fires until it's all too much for him, until he's only inches from me, lips pulled back into a snarl. The blood pools over my stomach now, bleeding onto the pristine tile floors. He doesn't seem to mind. He pauses only centimeters from my face. "You asked for this Nolan. You deserve this."

And then all of a sudden his figure disappears, morphed into a new one. Fifty-three's face, pulled back into the same snarl. She wields a weapon of her own, a small blade. Their blade. She holds it against the side of her face and says the same thing, over and over and over again. "You asked for this Nolan. You deserve this." Then she plunges it into my chest, and there's the sound of someone screaming, although I can't tell if it is me or her...

I would've jolted awake, if I'd had the strength. Instead, my eyes fly apart and leave me squinting into the darkness.

It takes me a moment to feel the tube clasped onto the back of my hand.

I blink rapidly, focusing my vision on my own body. They aren't letting me die, I think first, when I finally come to see the liquids soaring through the fine cylinder. I'm not sure how they managed to do it, but I'm being pumped gallons of different substances. They probably gave me a few shots too, while I blacked out.

Which makes me wonder...did I black out? The last thing I remember was the door closing. Did they come in and knock me out afterwards? Drug me? Or was it simply too much for me to bear and I just nodded off?

I'm not sure where my shirt has gone, but I feel cold, and too exposed here. I seek warmth, but only barely manage to tighten my arms over my chest.

Despite the sensation that I'm being watched, the light on the camera is no longer flashing, which means they're not broadcasting. And why would they? The Kings can't show footage of their attempts to keep me alive. If the ACA thinks I'm getting better, than they think they have more time to come after me. And of course, The Kings are on too tight of a schedule for that.

But the result of our rescue mission continues to be the most haunting thing on my mind. Did Fifty-three make it out? Did she manage to get all of those innocents to safety? Or did The Kings possibly blow up the entire sewer? There is a sudden pain in my chest when I think about it, because up until this point, I hadn't realized just how easy it would be. Just blow a grenade in there and poof. One agent gone plus the majority of Division 9. Too simple.

Though it fills me with anguish, I know what I must do. I tighten my fingers around the tube and yank it as hard as I can (although my body is still too weak to have much effect). I'm no doctor, but even I know that whatever they've been putting in me is trying to fight the infection in my side. It should keep my strength up for a while, but without surgery or some other extensive procedure, the infection will definitely spread.

It hasn't exactly hit me until now, just how close I've come to death. And although I tell myself that death itself would've been the better option, I don't really have another choice. Because I'm going to be the reason the ACA wades themselves into a war. A war they probably can't win.

A galling beeping sound rings in my ears, and I know that within a few moments there will be people among me, to knock me out, to reinsert. There has to be something I can do. Something to stop them...

Before I can come up with anything there is a sharp prick in my back, and I slump against the wall, falling back into the same nightmare. Staring down that same gun barrel. Looking up into that sadistic face.

And all the while, I just can't stop falling.