Agent (Book 1)

Chapter 38-Nolan

38

Nolan Hood

Agent: 21

Mission: Not Applicable

Date: September 12th, 2089

Time: 0730

Given only a few footsteps and a mass of raging bodies, Ava is concealed. I try everything to get back to her, rear back with my foot, thrash, punch and kick, but Tenor hardly even reacts. He yanks me through the crowd and onto the stairwell with little trouble.

We start to climb, and I'm defenseless, being held up by the shirt collar with no resistance. I pause as he's mounting the first few steps and take the opportunity to roll under his outstretched arm and smack him across the face. He falls into the jutting edge of the next stair, and I'm hoping it's knocked him out pretty well, when he's back to his feet, raising his eyebrows with an all-too-familiar grin. Is that the best you can do? He says.

It better not be.

Before we can continue, I take a moment to consider his face. With the light streaming in from the bunker room, his eyes are gleaming. I wonder if Commander Pyle's right about our relation after all. We seem to be lacking many distinct similarities. Sure, we might be rather identical in build, and our eyes might share the same sky blue. But are mine really that sharp? Are mine really so piercing, they feel as if they're cutting directly into your soul?

"Really, it's quite nice to see that you're feeling better," Tenor laughs, as he reaches for my collar again and hauls me after him. This time, he doesn't bother getting too many stairs ahead of me and I, in turn, don't bother launching the same move twice. I have the feeling I won't get the same result the next time. What really scares me, is how little effect my hit had on him.

I finally give in, and stop struggling as we make our way up the flights. By the time we've reached the entrance to the hallway, I'm convinced a permanent line has been stamped over my neck from his grasp on my shirt. I'm panting, exhausted, but Tenor doesn't give me any time to rest. He pulls me down the hall and thrusts me through an unlocked door.

The room is entirely bare. He must've known exactly the right place to kill me in peace. After all, he's been here longer than I have. "You should be thanking me," he says. "I doubt the others would've wanted to see how I've intended to kill you." He chuckles and turns his back to me, studying the walls. A small gurgling sound escapes his lips, like he's found this entire thing incredibly amusing. A mix of anticipation and adrenaline floods my veins, and I back up into the corner. He must think I'm afraid, or trying to escape, because he only laughs harder.  

"Poor boy," he mutters. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck rising on end, and I lay a hand on my waist, clutching the pistol. I must've dropped my other gun back in the bunker. "Please, they'll be no need for that yet," Tenor says, though his body is still turned in the opposite direction. I freeze, on edge. "Do I remember this place," he sighs.

The contrast between his bushy hair and the crimson of his cloak startles my eyes, with a fleck of light blue as he turns back to me. I feel a wave of déjà vu as I watch those eyes, and I want to run, or shoot, or take away the horrifying figure that finds his way into my nightmares.

"Tell me, did Commander Pyle ever change while I was away?" Tenor goes on. My entire body is screaming, like standing here, waiting for death isn't acceptable. I want to flee. "Did she ever tell you that she loved you, that she knew what you were capable of? Did she?" He says. Maybe I would've found the strength to spit back a retort, but my throat is dry. "Did she?" he repeats, gritting his teeth.