The Rogue Agent
Page 20
“No!” I shouted, not even hesitating to reach into my pocket. I couldn't let that thing attack Lieutenant Hollister. I pulled out the blue paintbrush, releasing it from its canister, and looked down at it. It was my Handle, right? So why did I have no clue how to get it working?
And I was running out of time. Lieutenant Hollister made a good sized leap into the asphalt, but with her busted leg, we didn't have much time before the Depression Fragment was on top of her.
As the Fragment ran at her, an urgent feeling; one I could almost hear in my ears, told me to aim my paintbrush right at it. Worth a shot, I figured. I pointed the paintbrush straight at the pile of dog-shaped smoke. Then started to rumble and shake, all of the blue paint collecting onto the tip of the brush. The Fragment kept running at Lieutenant Hollister, completely oblivious to my weapon.
“Whatever you're going to do, now would be a great time,” I said to the paintbrush in hopes that maybe it could hear me.
The Fragment was gaining on her now; getting ready to attack. Lieutenant Hollister must have figured this out, because she turned around and waited for it to charge her. The Fragment took its chance and jumped up to tackle her.
“No!” I shouted, and there was a tug in my gut. The paint on the tip of the brush fell off and shot out with a speed that whistled in my ears. It grew until it was a giant transparent-blue paint bubble, and flew up and swallowed the Fragment whole in midair.
It growled and made that horrible shrieking noise again, thrashing around to get out. Its effort meant nothing; the bubble held tight. I watched as the bubble got higher and higher, shrinking in size until it popped. The Depression Fragment disappeared and its shriek rang out in my ears. I plugged my ears with my fingers until the screaming stopped.
“Phew,” I sighed, staring down at the paintbrush. “I have no idea how that happened, but thanks.” I whispered to it. Then I shoved it in my pocket and ran over to help Hollister up, but she was already brushing herself off by the time I made it to her. She stood up and gave me a shameful look. “You and Scott went to De Mentoria...” she said flatly. “You got your Handle. A direct violation of orders—”
“Hey,” I cut her off, anger rising inside me, “don't chew me out like one of your Officers. Besides, if it wasn't for my Handle, you could've died just now! Having it helped us.”
“What about Scott?” Lieutenant Hollister asked. “His life is at stake now because you two decided to go on your own. You might as well hand it here.” She reached her hand out at me. Did she really expect me to hand it to her?
My hand was in my pocket, clutching the paintbrush. I wanted to get mad and yell again, but I kept my mouth shut. She was right. I didn't want to admit it, but she was. Scott did get sick after we went to De Mentoria. I wondered if it was one of those drinks at Damian's bar. Except Scott was an Officer. Cops didn't drink on the job, right? (Or at least they made sure to mention it on TV). So then maybe it was the food from Mr. Reggie's restaurant. Did that make it my fault? Or was it my fault the moment I brought my art bag with me that day in the hospital?
Lieutenant Hollister sighed and put her arm down. She limped forward, back onto the sidewalk. “We need to keep going,” she said.
“Don't you ever make time to breathe?” I cracked.
“The Depression Agent's gotta be close,” she explained, ignoring my comment. “We need to get it while it’s weak.”
“Why it would it be weak?” I asked.
“The Fragment,” she said impatiently, as if she expected me to get what she meant. “The Depression Agent had to use a portion of its power to make it. If there's any chance for us to strike, right now is going to be our best bet.”
“Fine,” I finally said, “but I'm keeping the Handle. Violation of orders or not.” I took my hand off the paintbrush, leaving it in my pocket. I decided whether Scott's sickness was my fault or not, I wasn't going to give my Handle up. If anything, Scott decided to help me get it, so I had a duty to continue to use it. Not to mention, it'd already saved my life a few times.
Lieutenant Hollister said nothing. Instead, she turned around and started walking down the sidewalk. I followed close behind, neither of us saying another word until we made it to the front of the school.
26. I Get Words Of Wisdom From A Rave-Goer
We arrived at the front of the school, and the only thing that stood between us and the entrance was the flight of stairs. I was about to start walking, when I felt a sharp pain on my arm. “Ouch,” I said, grabbing my arm.
“What is it?” Lieutenant Hollister asked.
“It's the cut,” I said, inspecting my arm for any extra damage, “but I don't know why it hurts this much. It feels like I just now cut it.”
“The Depression Agent probably has something to do with it,” Lieutenant Hollister said, “which means we're close. Come on, hurry.”
I didn't say it out loud, but the cut was also making my heart ache with that awful feeling. The part I hated the most was that the pain was helping me think straight. I tried to shut it out of my head and started walking up the steps.
I made it halfway up, Lieutenant Hollister close behind, when all of a sudden, my body froze in place. It happened slowly, spreading through my entire body until my walk up the steps slowed to a halt.
My heart started beating fast. Was it Damian? My eyes darted all around looking for the poorly dressed crazy guy, but he was nowhere to be found. Plus, I didn't feel a chill in every part of my body like I did when he stopped me.
It felt more like I was being suspended from moving—like time hit the pause button on my body. I tried to call out to Lieutenant Hollister, but I couldn't even move my mouth to say anything. Up in front of me, at the top of the steps, a dark shape started to swirl into existence. Like a pinwheel made out of shadows it spun, until it was about the size of a person. Then someone walked through it. Another Fragment?
No. It was the guy with the dark hood. I remembered seeing him at the Club Insanis. He was the one who slammed into me on my way out.
“I have a warning for you,” he said. I tried to ignore him; wait until this all went away. For all I knew, the Depression Agent could have been making this guy up from the start. But his voice made my heart feel heavy, and my head dizzy.
“Listen closely: You need to leave.” Leave? Now I was confused. What did he mean by that? “Stop trying to best your Depression.” the hooded guy continued. “It's not worth how much worse it will get for you and your sister, Chloe.” Anger rang in my head. Everyone and their rave buddies seemed to know who my little sister was. But maybe that meant he knew something about where she was. I tried to move; to charge him and demand information. My finger twitched, and I slowly balled my hand into a fist. It was as slow as grabbing a handful of molasses. But I was moving now. I wasn't going to stop now. The ringing in my ears grew louder and louder, until I realized the sound wasn't coming from my anger at all. It was the school bell ringing.
All of a sudden, my whole body tingled, and I could move again. I didn't hesitate. I sprinted up the stairs at this guy.
“Lucy, don't!” Lieutenant Hollister yelled, coming up the steps behind me. Don't what? What was she talking about?
“You know nothing about Chloe, you freak! Now where is she?” I yelled, jumping at him to shove him to the ground. But I flew right through him and into the front doors of the school, knocking them open.
“Ow, ow...” I said, standing up and turning around, looking for the hooded guy. But he was gone—like he evaporated into thin air or something. Lieutenant Hollister climbed up the last few steps and stood where the hooded guy was a second ago. She pulled something from her ear, and shouted into it, “He was here, Dart! Don't lose the trail!” “What are you talking about?” I asked her, my heart beating fast now. “What trail? And who was that guy? Another Fragment? Why could he talk, and how did he know my sister's name?” I shot question after question at Lieutenant Hollister, waiting for her to answer one.
“Feel fr
ee to jump in at any time,” I said sarcastically.
“It wasn't a Fragment,” she said, looking down at the spot where the smoke appeared, “It was the rogue Agent.”
✽✽✽
“You mean that guy was—...But he knew my—” I stopped, unable to form a complete sentence. Lieutenant Hollister walked into the school. “Lucy…” she said in a consoling voice. But I wasn't having that.
“You already knew!” I shouted angrily, pointing a finger at her.
“It was for—”
“I don't care what it was for!” I said, interrupting her. “I—”
A familiar giggle stopped everything. Lieutenant Hollister and I both looked up at the ceiling. The gray blur zoomed past us and the front doors to the school slammed shut. Lieutenant Hollister ran to pull them open. “Regrouping is out of the question.” she called out behind me. “The doors won't budge!”
It giggled again and zoomed past me the other way, and I felt a sharp pinch on my cheek. I put my hand on it to inspect it, and I felt blood. A fresh cut.
“Stop hiding and show yourself!” I shouted, taking a step forward into the dark school hallway.
“I've always been here,” the voice said, echoing through the halls. Its voice wasn't muffled this time, and it sounded like a young girl.
“IT WAS LUCY WHO PUSHED ME AWAY, REMEMBER?” she asked with hostility in her voice. The gray blur zoomed by again, almost right in front of me and then disappeared again.
I cried out in pain, clutching my knee. When I looked down, a fresh had cut opened up on it.
“I WAS LUCY’S BEST FRIEND,” the voice said. “I KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT HER. I JUST WANTED TO GIVE HER WHAT WAS…BEST FOR HER.” she giggled.
“Sure,” I yelled, “if what's best for me was being alone and worthless!”
“HEE-HEE-HEE-HEE, LUCY STILL DOESN’T UNDERSTAND.” the voice said, as the blur started to appear in the dark hallway and come closer. It stopped a little ways away, the upper half of it hidden from the shadows casted in the hallway. I looked down at its legs, and couldn't quite understand what I was looking at. They looked like the snowy stuff you would see on a television screen, all white and gray and constantly shifting around. How did it move with legs like that?
“WHAT’S BEST FOR YOU,” the voice continued, “IS THE TRUTH. THAT BOY? HE GOT IN THE WAY OF THAT. HE CLOUDED THAT TRUTH. I HAD TO MAKE HIM LEAVE. YOUR FAMILY TOO, FOR THAT MATTER. EVEN RIGHT NOW, YOUR SISTER GIVES YOU THAT STUPID FAKE HOPE.”
“Stop!” I growled. “You're crazy!”
“THEY WERE ALL WORTHLESS,” it continued, like it couldn't hear me. “SO I TRIED TO PULL YOU AWAY FROM THEM. BUT I’VE REALIZED HOW MUCH EFFORT THAT TOOK, WHEN THERE’S A MUCH EASIER METHOD TO HELP YOU SEE THE TRUTH CLEARLY.”
“What are you talking about? What truth?” I asked, slowly moving my hand to my pocket. It just giggled again, the blur zipping right past me. It cut the back of my leg and I had to take a knee.
“Get away!” Lieutenant Hollister yelled behind me, trying to fight back. I turned around and saw the blur dash in circles around her. When it stopped, Lieutenant Hollister was on the ground.
“Lieutenant Hollister!” I called out.
I ran toward her, but the blur scooped her up and carried her off down the hallway. It turned right up ahead, disappearing into one of the rooms.
27. Anti-Me, Myself, and I Bring The School Down
My body moved before I had time to think.
I ran down the hallway after them as best as I could, with the fresh cuts on my knee and the back of my leg threatening to slow me down. The voice giggled and laughed as I ran:
“WORTHLESS LUCY…YOU’LL NEVER MAKE IT…” it said.
“Shut up!” I yelled out at it, and it laughed again. But this time it sounded different; not like a little girl's laugh, but like someone was gargling with glass shards. And it was closer. I knew where it took Lieutenant Hollister.
I took a hard right and shoved the door to the bathroom open, rushing inside. But I didn't see Lieutenant Hollister anywhere.
“SEE?” the voice asked, “ALL I HAD TO DO WAS TAKE YOUR FRIEND, AND HERE YOU ARE. MUCH EASIER.” it laughed again, echoing all over the room.
“Where is the Lieutenant?!” I yelled.
“I'm here, Lucy,” Lieutenant Hollister called out inside the bathroom. “I can’t move, but I’m fine.”
She was in one of the stalls. I hoped she just couldn't move from the Depression Agent's powers or being tied up or something, and not because she got cut all over. Then it would be my worthless fault—
“Listen!” she shouted, as if she could read my mind, “Don't worry about me—just focus on beating this thing!” That snapped me out of it. The Zone was already pulling me in. I needed to fight back. I needed to beat this Agent.
“Right,” I said, loud enough for Lieutenant Hollister to hear me, “I can do this.”
“DO YOU REMEMBER…” the voice started to say, “THE MOMENT OUR RELATIONSHIP GREW TO THE NEXT STEP?”
And like that, my confidence started slipping.
“Shut up!” I said.
“IT WAS THE FIRST TIME A BLADE MET YOUR SKIN...” the voice continued, bouncing all over the room so I couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
“That wasn't me...” I said, feeling a tear roll down my face, “You made me do that!”
“LIES!” it yelled. The bathroom rumbled. I steadied myself as the bathroom mirrors shattered, and the blur zoomed into the room. It kicked up a storm running back and forth, and pulling all the shards into itself until its body was clearly visible. It stopped and stood right in front of me.
I could see it made up of the shards of glass and kitchen knives, along with school scissors and other sharp objects. It took a step closer and tilted its head, like it was staring back at me. A large chunk of glass on where its face would have been showed me a shattered reflection of myself.
“YOU AND I MIGHT AS WELL HAVE BEEN ONE AND THE SAME PERSON IF YOU BELIEVE I COAXED YOU,” the blur spoke in the same raspy voice as that laugh; like everything in its body was made of rubbed together to make speech. The sound felt like it was piercing my eardrums. “YOU MADE THAT DECISION ON YOUR OWN, LUCY. I ONLY HELPED YOU SEE THAT IT WAS THE RIGHT ONE.”
“That was the worst mistake I ever made.” I said, spitting the words at it. The blur just laughed. “SO NAÏVE.”
It reached out and I tried to move, but my feet were stuck. I looked down, and there were little mounds of glass surrounding my feet.
It grabbed my left hand, filling it with cuts and gashes as it clamped down. I bit down on my tongue to avoid yelling.
“LET’S MAKE THIS REUNION SPECIAL, SHALL WE?” It pulled my left arm straight, and began to carve into it with a bladed finger on its other hand.
“AAAH!” I gave a quick scream before shutting my mouth hard, not wanting to give this Agent the pleasure of seeing my tears. But the memory of the pain hurt just as much with each stroke, tracing each scar with a fresh cut.
“You can break through this, Lucy!” The Lieutenant yelled from the stall. The blur laughed that horrible grinding sound again. I stared it right in the eye—my own eye, since I just saw my reflection. I gritted my teeth, just wanting the pain to stop…
I gasped. That was it.
I reached into my pocket and fumbled around for the paintbrush, trying to grab the lid to the paint canister.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” it screamed at me. It cut open a new gash on my arm. It took all I had to just keep moving my other hand around in my pocket. I was almost there now; I just needed a minute or two.
“I—” I tried to speak through the pain. “I just...realized something.” I managed to say through my gritted teeth. The Agent laughed again, pausing her assault on my arm, and asked, “Why, what did you realize, Lucy?”
“I wasn't the one to shut everyone out, and become that empty shell,” I said, keeping my eyes on it and away from my pocket, “That's what you did to me. You a
nd I are not one in the same person. I am Lucy, and you're the opposite—an Anti-Lucy.”
“ANTI-LUCY, HMM?”
“I' ran away from you since you appeared,” I told it, yelling now as the pain in my arm set in. But I was so close—I only needed to distract it a moment longer.
“I ran to what stopped the pain; what made me sane: My art!”
I grabbed the blue paintbrush, and practically tore it out of the canister, both it and my hand dripping with paint. Then I brought it down hard into the arm Anti-Lucy was using to hold my left hand steady. The brush found itself sliding between a few chinks of class. The Agent screamed loud enough to shake the whole building, sounding like a wave made of broken glass.
“I'm not going to let you turn me into you anymore—Augh!” Even screaming in pain from the paintbrush, Anti-Lucy still managed to keep cutting up my arm.
I gritted my teeth again, and every time it cut me, I made another stroke of my paintbrush into its glass-shard filled arm. Then suddenly, it stopped cutting me. It let go of my arm and staggered back, until it froze completely; the screaming stopped too. What I drew became clear on its arm, glowing in dark blue: I-A-M-L-U-C-Y.
Glass shards and other pieces of the Depression Agent's body started to fall off, and the pain must have shocked it awake.
“YOU WILL NEVER GET RID OF ME!” it screamed, the bathroom starting to rumble again. Some rubble fell from the ceiling and crashed into one of the stall doors, tearing a giant hole into it.
“I'LL ALWAYS BE IN YOUR HEAD!” it screamed again. Its body was starting to smoke and this high-pitched whirring noise filled the room.
“Lucy, we need to get out of here now!” the Lieutenant said, climbing out of the hole and limping as fast as she could over to me.
“Why?” I asked, “What's happening?” Instead of answering, the Lieutenant just kept limping and pushing me out of the room. I did my best to make my body move, but I was drained. It took all of my energy and the Lieutenant’s to stay moving.
We barely made it into the hallway before Anti-Lucy exploded.