In Pursuit Of ✔

In Preparation For

Henley was awake, but she couldn't move. Each of her limbs felt as if they had two-ton weights strapped to them and her eyelids seemed permanently glued together. She had no idea how long she had been asleep and had no idea what time it was, or even what day it was. She could almost convince herself that the events following the graduation party were just a dream and that she was waking up, hung over, in her apartment. Almost.

With tremendous effort, Henley slowly cracked her eyes open and pushed herself up into a sitting position on the cot. The lamp was still on in the windowless room, and while the analog clock on the wall read 9:00, she had no idea if that was A.M. or P.M.

Looking around the room, Henley saw that it was a bit more furnished than she had noticed when she had collapsed onto the cot. The night before, all that mattered was the bed. But now, Henley saw there was a mirror on the wall and a small desk with a lamp that had been emitting light for the past however many hours she had been asleep, a telephone, and a small tray.

The tray had a small, plastic water bottle, two granola bars, and a package of baby carrots placed on it. Henley went for a granola bar first, but found it to have the consistency of sand in her dry mouth, so she opened the water. Upon picking up the bottle, she noticed for the first time a piece of paper on the tray. On inspecting it further, Henley saw that it was a handwritten note.

At your earliest convenience, please dial *814*

Henley eyed the telephone. She was not quite prepared to talk or see anyone just yet, so she finished the food and then got up to inspect herself in the mirror. Her brief conclusion made before she went to sleep was correct: she looked awful. She was also desperate for a change of clothes, still in her graduation party dress.

Wrestling her thick hair into a low bun, managing to keep in place without a hair tie, Henley looked back in the mirror and shrugged. She wasn't particularly concerned with how the people in the building, these C.O.D.E. Agents, would think of how she looked; she simply wanted a little bit of normalcy. However, Henley also conceded to herself that she wasn't going to get anymore normal looking without at least a hairbrush, so she picked up the phone and dialed.

The line rang once and then a cool, female voice spoke. "Thank you for your request." Henley thought it sounded rather robotic. "Please hold and someone will come to assist you in just a moment." The line went dead.

Henley put the phone back down and, unsure of what to do, sat back down on the cot. Just a moment later she got back to her feet, shifted from side to side in nervousness, steeled herself, and headed toward the door, hand stretched out for the handle.

Before she could touch it, the door swung open. A young woman stood there. She was shorter than Henley and had short, spikey hair with bright blue highlights running throughout it. "You're awake!" the woman exclaimed. "I hope you're feeling better?"

"Er, yeah, I guess," Henley said. She was feeling better, the sleep had done her a lot of good and she was beginning to shake of the grogginess that she had woken up with. "I could use a shower, though," she added. "Oh, and what time is it exactly?"

"Just past nine in the morning," the woman said. "You were asleep for close to 20 hours, I believe. I'm here to prepare you for going on the run and into hiding, and, of course, a shower can definitely be part of that. Follow me, please."

With no desire to remain in the small room any longer, Henley did as the woman asked. The woman continued to chatter as they walked.

"My name is Agent Lela Harris," she said, "but please, just call me Lela. I hate the whole 'Agent Harris' thing, especially when it comes to clients."