The Agency - Operation Delta (Part II)

Chapter 1

The cabin fire alarm's shrill cry pierced the air, urging Vanessa into action. As her eyes fluttered open, a blur of smoke invading through the air vents sharpened her groggy mind into focus. Her head throbbed in rhythm with the alarm, yet she forced herself to survey the harrowing aftermath around her. Bodies and luggage were strewn, grim remnants of the catastrophe.

A sharp pang in her back made Vanessa flinch; her hand instinctively went to her chest, coming back sticky with blood from reopened wounds. Yet, she pushed through the pain, quickly assessing the condition of her companions. Laura was a crumpled but breathing heap, seemingly unscathed. Eric, on the other hand, was visibly in distress, his leg trapped under a heavy suitcase.

Vanessa shoved the suitcase aside and helped him to his feet. Their eyes met—a wordless exchange that communicated their precarious situation. "We have to move, Eric," she urged, her eyes fixed on the smoke seeping into their compartment.

"Do you think the enemy will reach land?" Eric's voice was tinged with worry.

Vanessa found herself without an answer. Instead, her mind was flooded with the Agency's stern warnings: always brace for the worst-case scenario.

Eric moved to the emergency exit, veins popping on his forehead as he tried to force it open. "It should've opened automatically," he grumbled, his efforts futile.

"You're not doing it right," Winters interjected briskly, nudging Eric aside to reveal a small panel concealed near the door. In seconds, he had the panel open and manipulated something inside. With a click, the door obeyed, swinging open to admit a gush of fresh air.

As Vanessa stepped out, her eyes immediately swept the horizon, her ears picking up the faint but growing thump of rotor blades. Helicopters. She looked back at Eric, urgency filling her voice. "We need to move fast."

They found themselves in a vast, grassy expanse, now marred by trenches of upheaved earth left by the train's calamitous descent. Nearby, a dense thicket of towering eucalyptus trees whispered of a potential refuge.

Vanessa lifted her phone, desperate for a signal. "Phones are jammed. We need to get to the driver's carriage and activate the beacon."

As Eric and Winters wrestled with the driver's door, Vanessa scanned the front compartment. Two bodies were slumped against the controls, their fates uncertain. She swallowed hard, hit by the full magnitude of their predicament. They had landed in the middle of a warzone. The train had been ripped asunder; the rear carriages were obliterated ruins.

Then it dawned on her. The precise timing and location of the explosion suggested calculation. Whoever was behind this had a plan. They could have destroyed the entire train but had chosen not to.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by a cacophony of voices. Students began to evacuate, their faces marred by confusion and fear. Instinct urged her to keep them on the train, partially shielded from unknown dangers. But from what? And for how long? As if to answer her question, she heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire in the distance. They were sitting ducks.

"Eric, we're running out of time!" she yelled, her voice edged with desperation. Inside, the carriage was a scene of chaos. Students clambered over each other toward the exit, their hurried movements fanned by the acrid stench of smoke.

Eric glanced back at her, his eyes reflecting a vulnerability she rarely saw. "You should go. Hide. I'll stay," he suggested. But abandoning the students was unthinkable; they would either escape together or meet a common fate.

Realising the door wouldn't open in time, Vanessa shifted her focus to concealment. "We need to change into civilian clothes. Being identified is not an option."

Eric shook his head, still insistent. "You need to go. They can't find you here."

"I doubt they even know I'm on this train," she shot back, her eyes locked onto his. "Our best chance is to stay and protect the students."

Vanessa vaulted back into the train to retrieve their bags. Her fingers fumbled with the zipper as she yanked out changes of clothes. They hastily swapped their conspicuous attire for something less eye-catching, all the while the thumping rotors of the helicopters grew louder, nearer.

"I didn't see the other agents," she said, pulling her white shirt down.

Before they disembarked, Eric reached out, his fingers lightly touching her arm. "Is there a way out of this?"

She looked into his eyes, seeing a blend of love and despair. She wished she could reassure him with more than words. Wished she could promise a way out when every calculation, every analysis screamed that their chances were slim. "All we can do is try," she whispered.

As they leapt from the train, a high-pitched noise tore through the air, followed by a blinding light. The wind roared, tossing her hair across her face. Her ears rang; her vision blurred. Eric's grip tightened around her arm as they both stumbled, disoriented. The air was thick with dust and smoke, kicked up by the powerful downwash of the rotor blades. She shielded her eyes, squinting through the grit. When the disorienting fog lifted, what she saw made her stomach churn: they were surrounded, encircled by armed figures in tactical gear.

It was as if the board had been set, and they were the pawns in a deadly game. Every route of escape she could think of seemed to close before her eyes. The odds calculated in her mind tilted towards defeat.