Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 31-Lynn

31

Lynn Kramer

Agent: 53

Mission: Not Applicable

Date: September 11th, 2089

Time: 920

I feel ashamed to say it, but all I can see is the beaten Hood back in that bakery.

It's filled me with some foreign emotion, a mix of desire and sadness that I can't seem to place. Either way, I have worse things to worry about.

I move through the hall at a rushed pace, after having quickly made my escape from his room. I keep contemplating what I should tell him about the video feed we'd gotten, the struggle it took for Rap to give in. For some reason, I want him to know how strongly I fought to rescue him, how difficult it was, but it seems inapt, given all he went through. Besides, I can't determine a way to tell him everything, without regretting it. For now—at least— I don't have to.

I stop in the middle of the hall as a voice catches my attention, yelling after me. It's Tori. With her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, it's easier to acknowledge her lithe frame and flawless cheeks. That, and when we aren't struggling to hide from a group of ravenous murderers. A thick rope of cotton is wrapped over her injured shoulder, but she doesn't move it in that small, mechanical motion she had before. There's the slightest hint of a grin on her face.

"So you're feeling better, I take it?" I ask as she pauses in front of me. Under normal circumstances, I probably would've attracted her lighthearted smile, but my face is set into a permanent line. The most I can do is nod.

"You could say that," she says and then she catches a glimpse of the door I just closed. "How is he?" She asks, her voice dropping a few notches. Her smile fades, replaced by concern.

I shrug. "Making progress." Then I lean against the wall for a moment and rub my temples, warding off the coming headache. This is all just too much. The one world I thought I had been safe in, I thought I was free to really be me, is crumbling right before my very eyes. Is Tori even someone I can trust? I find myself frowning at her, searching.

Thankfully, she doesn't voice any of my obvious troubles. She reaches for my hand and gently begins to tug me down the corridor. "You ever been on the roof of this place?" She asks. I shake my head, to which her grin returns.

We get into the elevator just as the doors are closing, and go zooming upwards in the darkness (it strikes me with a unwelcome sensation of déjà vu) only to creak to halt on the floor labeled Rooftop Airbase. A blast of wind blows the ringlets of loose hair from my cheeks.

The roof is stationed with all sorts of fighter jets and air defense. I can't help but gawk at the sight of such equipment. The entire square footage is filled with everything from the newest air models to engineering hardware. There is only one place left bare, right beside our second flat, being operated on by men in blue uniforms.

If that wasn't already astounding, what's more is the layer of what appears to be glass, stretching over the rooftop in a dome. Curiosity brings me to the edge of the building, and I reach out to lay my hand against the side. Instead, it slides right through, as though it isn't even there. A sheen of shiny light. I step back, confused.

"It's not really glass. It's a covering. On the outside, the jets on the rooftop are invisible," Tori says, moving up beside me. I suppose I should've known, given all the times I've seen it from down below. But I can't resist putting my hand up to it several times, watching it glide through. My fingers glitter as they cross the barrier.

This is the time where speaking does nothing, where the company of another human being is enough. I find myself sliding down, leaning back against the gravelly surface of the rooftop with my feet over the edge.

I would be perfectly content laying there for hours and hours with no words said, but Tori breaks the silence after a few minutes. She seems to be locked in some sort of a daze, as she stares off into the distance of white. "You ever feel like...you don't belong here?" She asks, slowly continuing with each word.

After a moment I say, "Do you?"

Tori doesn't answer, just keeps her eyes locked on that one piece of sky, tucking her knees in to her chest. "I guess I just feel like everyone else was made for this life." She looks back now, frustration gathering. "I don't go on missions, fight criminals, like you. I hack computers. That's all I'm good for. And there are so many other people that need me. My dad, he'll be worried sick. And my brother..." She shakes her head rapidly. "I guess I just think about it too much."

Although I don't say anything, I can't agree with Tori, though this is the first I've ever heard of her family. I recall all those times I felt like I could never partake in any of the ACA's achievements. But Tori's clever, she must know that, and though it's obvious she is not content as an agent, she's smart enough to be a valuable asset. I just wish there was a way to tell her this, but my throats dry and I can't think of the words.

Tori sighs, dusting off her pants. "Whatever it is you're worrying about, Fifty-three, it's all sure to work out in the end." She squeezes my shoulder, gives a small half-smile, and rises to her feet. I stand beside her.

We go back to the elevator (I can't deny my disappointment, because the rooftop is truly fascinating) and ride down as an announcement plays overhead. It is calling for a meeting in the cafeteria immediately, under the Commander's instruction.

Tori raises her eyebrows at me as the doors slide apart, but says nothing, and we walk along the corridors until we turn into the lunch room. One question continues to circulate in my mind, no matter how many times I attempt to stifle it. Has Rap already identified the accused agents? He couldn't have. Not yet.

Tori and I are one of the last few agents to file in, so Rap is just now getting to his speech. He clears his throat, calling for attention, moving a hand through his always-bushy locks. The room falls silent after a few seconds. I can spot Kamal standing somewhere behind Rap, with his hands behind his back. His expression is grave.

"I've called you here today to give a few important announcements," Rap begins. "First, I see it reasonable to mention the official success of Agent Hood's rescue mission." There's a moment of silence as his words find us and then the room erupts in cheers, hollers and whoops. Part of me strives to join in, but my heart is pounding too fiercely. I'm hanging on to his every word.

As soon as the cheering quiets down (after several attempts from Rap), he continues. "Agent Hood is currently in the infirmary, being attended to. It is to my knowledge that he should be back to his feet in only a few days' time." More cheers. Rap goes on, refusing to wait for it to calm down again, "However, there were several casualties following the unexpected attack, and our enemies managed to take ahold of one of our Airflats. Because of this, the ACA has lost a valuable piece of air defense, and we cannot guarantee that the flat was completely locked down." Rap stops, gazing out for a long moment, regretting his next words. It's almost frightening, how suddenly the mood in the room has changed. There is no sign of the exuberance at Agent Hood's rescue. "The Kings attack on the rescue team was not a coincidence." Tori's shifting beside me. "I believe, that there are a number of agents in the ACA who have been coinciding with our enemy. I assure you, they will be put up to trial as soon as possible."

No one gasps. There are no cries of frustration or horror. The only indication of such powerful news is the stiffness in posture, the glances of suspicion to the left and right. Who can I trust? They must be thinking.

"You all deserve to know the secrets that have been kept from you. Your friends could be the very people who have been lying, all of this time." Rap drops his head, twiddling his thumbs. I can see him struggling to remain dignified, and determined for the rest of us. No one can blame him. Several are following suit. "I'm trying my best," he adds, weakened.

"No one is safe anymore."

I can't take this. Just as I'm turning to leave, pushing through the mob of onlookers, I catch Rap's eyes on me. I know what he must be thinking. Even our Commander, our leader, doesn't trust us. Can't trust us.

Can't trust me.