The Agency - Operation Delta (Part II)

Chapter 2

Sweat trickled down Laura's cheek as she shielded her eyes from the glaring sun. Its heat bore into her skin, mixing with the thick, smoky air that filled her lungs. A gentle breeze tousled strands of her hair, offering a momentary distraction. She looked up at the clear blue sky, her mind swirling with confusion.

The grass beneath her fingertips felt real, grounding her. Summoning every last ounce of her strength, she tried to rise. But a forceful thud against her chest knocked her back down.

A military boot retreated from her line of sight. Panic surged within her, heart pounding as she saw a figure looming above. Every nerve in her body screamed danger as she tried to recall her last memories.

Before she could muster another attempt to move, the soldier spoke. "It would be wise to stop trying," he cautioned. His voice was laced with an accent that extinguished any remaining hope that he might be an ally.

Swallowing her anxiety, she searched for words. "I... I don't..."

His gaze, steely and calculating, moved from her to the horizon. "It seems as though the angels are watching over you," he remarked.

Laura scrutinised him as he leaned closer, noting the unfamiliar flag on his uniform. A frigid realisation twisted her insides: he was the enemy.

"Where... where am I? What happened?" she stammered.

His response was cold and stern. "No, young lady, you wouldn't know, would you? God saved you once, and he has saved you again."

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. "I don't understand," her voice trembled, "who is god?"

He exhaled harshly, his eyes awash with judgment. "I should have known better. This messed-up country hasn't changed. You may not know his name, but he watches over us all, and it appears he has faith in you. A non-believer, nonetheless, not by choice but by circumstance."

The warnings from her teachers echoed loudly in her mind: "Don't shelter them, don't trust them. They're the wolves in sheep's clothing."

The soldier's next words snapped her back to reality. "I bet you couldn't have thought life would become worse after he was executed, but this is how non-believers react to faith. They fear it because they know once they understand the good it brings, they would fight to the death to defend it."

Her eyes widened, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. "What are you talking about? Who is he?"

"Your lover, Jacob, was it?"

Jacob. Confusion enveloped her. How could he possibly know about Jacob? "He was guilty," she murmured, the words a hushed confession.

The soldier knelt, gripped her arm, and pulled her into a sitting position. Her vision blurred as she wiped away what she thought was sweat from her temple, only to find her fingers stained with blood. "You were knocked unconscious in the accident," he said. "You were lucky to be sitting in the front carriage."

"Accident?" Laura echoed, her eyes scanning the grass, grasping for fragments of memory. "I was on a train?"

"Yes, you were. There were agents on your carriage, and you will identify them."

Flashes of memories pierced her thoughts—Vanessa's face, an explosion of red, engulfing darkness. "Lee," she murmured, panic evident in her voice. She cast her gaze around, but the surrounding devastation offered only obscured silhouettes.

"If he was with you, he survived," the soldier assured her.

Hollow words, Laura thought. "I need to see him," she insisted, desperation lacing her voice.

"The agents," the soldier reiterated, "Identify them."

"I don't know who was on my carriage. Why do you even need me? Don't you know who you're after?"

"Time is not on our side," he said coldly, "the quicker we get what we came for, the quicker we will leave."

"Why me?" she asked.

His eyes scanned the horizon once more before landing back on her. "There's a target on your back. It's puzzling why the agents haven't acted. You weren't meant to reach Windfield."

"That doesn't make sense! I've done nothing wrong."

His voice dropped, "You're a witness. As long as you breathe, you're a threat. Your boyfriend's family became a threat to the rebel cause, and the artifact was the easiest way to have them executed."

Laura's mind raced, grappling with the revelations. "How could you possibly know all this?"

His smirk was cold. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend. An insider wanted you gone, and I was meant to ensure it."

Fear coursed through her veins, and instinctively she tried to move away, but his grasp was unyielding. As she met the darkness in his eyes, her heart raced.

"Calm down," he cautioned, releasing her. "If I wanted you dead, we wouldn't be talking. Help with the agents, then we leave. What you do with this knowledge... that's on you."

Laura wiped a tear from her cheek. Her choices were limited and grim. "Why do you need me?" she asked softly. "You knew about Jacob, so why wouldn't you know what the agents look like?"

His response was a chilling silence, followed by a slap that knocked her off balance and onto the ground. "I warned you, time is running out, and you're wasting mine," he said.

Surrendering to the inevitable, she responded, "What do you want me to do?"

He extended a hand, helping her to her feet. "We're going to walk around to the other side of the train. You won't speak. You will simply point. Then, you will follow my direction."

As they navigated around the wreckage, Laura's blurry vision began to clear, revealing a nightmarish tableau. Smoke filled the air; twisted metal lay scattered. She realised she had narrowly escaped death by merely being in a different carriage.

When they reached the other soldiers, one of them, a younger man, addressed her captor as "Commander." Laura sensed their collective menace; their numbers were few, but the destruction they had caused was immense. Around her were only fields and a sparse forest. No help would come anytime soon, she thought, swallowing a sob.

They stopped before a line of bound, kneeling survivors. Her thoughts narrowed to a singular, haunting chant: wolves, wolves, wolves.

Her heart pounded as she scanned the row of subdued prisoners. Pointing out agents should have been easy—after all, they had executed Jacob, and they would do the same to her. But when she thought about actually lifting her finger to doom someone, a sickening hesitation clawed at her. Finally, she pointed at the two agents. Almost immediately, her knees buckled and she collapsed to the ground.

The commander walked up to Agent 411. He gripped his firearm and swung it through the air, its butt making contact with the back of 411's head.