Agent Atlantis

Chapter 9-The Deal

Luke collapsed into a seat in the passenger section. Next to him, an unconscious Collins was nodding off, his torso heavily bandaged. He looked much better—maybe he'd been injected with the energy syringe? I hope he doesn't get addicted to it.

"The men bothering you?" Laption asked as the boy gave a long sigh.

"You could say that." He'd spent the better part of an hour giving out his signatures. He didn't know it could be this exhausting; his legs ached, scolding him for staying upright for so long, and his fingers felt like they were broken. Compared to the treatment he'd faced in the cargo section, he now felt like he was in a warm, peaceful bath.

Luke reclined his seat, and closed his eyes. If he tried hard enough, he could tune out the sounds of the rotors whirring outside and the soldiers bustling about behind. His eyes started drooping . . .

And then the helicopter dove down.

"What the—" Luke yelped as his seatbelt squeezed his abdomen like a nut in a nutcracker. "What's happening?"

"Everything's fine," Laption assured him as the boy peered through the door window.

In the cargo section, the soldiers had been caught off guard. Loose crates slid around, taking out men left and right. On even crashed into the door—his cheek smearing the glass all the way down. "We've reached our destination."

"Could you give me a warning next time? My heart's racing—I thought we got taken out by a SAM missile!"

"This is your warning. Look to your left."

In a moment of surprising obedience, Luke listened. His mouth dropped open as he observed the outside surroundings. His grip on the armrest tightened—and it wasn't because he was scared.

Beneath him lay a sprawling campus the size of four football fields, surrounded by a tall wall. But what Luke noticed as surprising was the buildings. In a nation where modern resources had been stripped, every building inside the walls was a skyscraper—built with glass and steel. Of course, the compound had been militarized—soldiers, missile trucks, and vehicles were everywhere. The thing that caught Luke's eye the most was the building in the center, which comprised of half the space. "Is that . . ."

"A hospital?" Laption finished, nodding. "Sure is, bud. Isn't she a beaut'?"

"How can this be in Central Artena? Didn't everything get raided?" Luke's mind whirled. A fully intact hospital during wartime was a shocking thing—it was a piece of infrastructure that should've been respected, but militaries often treated the institutions as weapons themselves. Luke had to admit, hospitals were a powerful force to rechon with.

"We're different from civilians. The Wartenians? They can't do anything against us."

"You mean . . ."

Laption smirked. "Welcome to Bear Alpha. Our forward operations base in Central Artena—with a fully functioning Level One Trauma Center."

~~~

"Hello! How may I help you this afternoon?"

The receptionist—a plump woman in her late thirties—looked up as footsteps approached. The brilliant smile on her face wavered slightly—before coming back—as she noticed the boy with torn clothes, as well as the dirt he left on the shining floor.

Meanwhile, Luke was in a daze—it had been a while since he'd walked through clean hallways, marble flooring, and chandeliers hung from the ceiling. It felt like a dream—one that he shouldn't be having. Every million-dollar painting he found on the walls reminded him of a civilian's home being burned to the ground by the Wartenians. The antiseptic faded away to the scent of gunpowder—and blood.