Agent M: Testament (The Agent M Series Book 2) (12 page)

One hundred feet separated Michael from the corridor’s end. His pace remained consistent and firm. The echoes of his boots tapping the soft stone floor could be potentially heard from anyone lurking in the shadows. Michael continued to press his guard making sure to check each and every inch before continuing. Walls on the east and north end pushed the hallway to move due west. Michael cautiously turned the corner. His eyes were swept away by a new monstrosity waiting to greet him.

The marvelous structure stood at least four stories high, embedded with lights, religious symbols and markings. It had the makeup of an ancient cathedral but sat proudly, free from decay, as if it were built within the last decade. Brightly colored vegetation and flowers filled the exterior of the building. The lack of sunlight seemed to not affect their growth in the slightest. Such a majestic and otherwise impossible image could not be the work of corporations let alone mortal men.

In the foreground, dozens of young men tended to the garden. They meticulously picked wide assortments of fruits, vegetables, and berries while wearing a similar outfit to the man that first greeted Michael in the arena. All of them blatantly ignored Michael’s arrival which struck another nerve in his already agitated conscious.

“Mr. Curtis,” called a voice from within the foyer.

The familiar beard and pleasant tone gave him away in an instant. Adriel walked up through the walkway between the garden and approached Michael without a care in the world. To them, this kind of existence might be considered normal. To Michael, it was the definition of an anomaly.

“Allow me to apologize once more for the abruptness of my request but it has been deemed necessary that we require your presence.”

Michael surveyed him once again, making sure to check for any irregular patterns in tone or body language. When he was satisfied that Adriel’s intentions appeared sincere, he nodded. The first question on Michael’s mind was, of course, the obvious.

“Where am I?”

“Of course, where are my manners?” Adriel teased hoping to bring a sense of levity to his new guest. “Mavryk Curtis, welcome to Testament.”

March 24th, 2013 5:58PM (local time)

Sonbong County, North Korea

Lee Min-hyuk sat quietly looking over a detailed map by candle-light in the desolate and claustrophobic area designated as an office. The filthy atmosphere this cave offered was merely meant to be a temporary hideout until things died down from their foreign intruders. If his superior officers in the fallen regime would have told him he’d be spending the better part of six months down here, he might have offered a word or two of resistance.

As a career soldier, Lee wanted nothing more than to honor his country. Even at 26 years old, he was considered a bit young for duties but he acted and carried himself like any General on the battlefield; though he desperately didn’t want his superiors to see him now. Lee’s once proud physique and stature had gone to hell thanks to their defeat. Scavenging for food become commonplace and any time where they had three meals available in a single day was considered a welcomed delight. His uniform was in tatters from the last major battle they fought and no one has had a clean change of clothes since. He hadn’t even had a chance to do the simple things like cut his hair. Now it was almost long enough to touch his shoulders. Such a look would be considered a disgrace to his superiors.

Strewn across the makeshift bunker were dozens of grimy blankets that his soldiers proudly called their beds. This image would have embarrassed Lee to the point of tears a few months ago. Now they call it home. Any of their worldly belongs sat in a small pile in the center of the room. They shared everything here just as good brothers should.

The North Korean army was in shambles. Lee didn’t want to admit that but it was hard to lie to yourself when the evidence is clearly staring you in the face. His once mighty platoon of soldiers was down to a paltry dozen or so. Their morale had been shattered watching their brothers fall in combat. Now instead of following their lead they were hiding out like cowards in this hellish place. Their honor had become tarnished and waking up in this abandoned nightmare every day was a constant reminder of their ultimate failure.

“Colonel Lee,” an enthusiastic young soldier called, “The broadcast is starting.”

Lee didn’t bother to give his subordinate a look. With a simple wave of his hand, he ordered the soldier to turn it on. A small, 19” CRT television radically flickered once the soldier pushed the power button. They didn’t even have the simple luxury of a remote control. Thankfully, even though the television was programmed only to receive a single channel, it was the only one they needed.

The mighty red logo of the Cable News Network was displayed proudly on the right hand corner of the screen. The local time read just a little after six pm. Darkness would soon come. Not that it mattered to Lee. He hadn’t seen the sun in at least 90 days. All of their raids for supplies and survival tools had to be done in the middle of the night. Any power they have must be generated manually through the broken bicycle they had painstakingly rigged to a car battery. Every soldier was required to burn off any energy they could spend to keep the battery full charged and despite the constant threat of malnourishment, they had managed to do just that.

An enthusiastic American reporter graced the screen. He greeted the public in a warm and welcoming tone, disgustingly happy for what was transpiring in the background behind him. Dozens of military vehicles proudly stamped with the U.S. and U.N. on the sides constantly moved, dropping soldiers off and unloading large pieces of equipment for them to use. The reporter looked as if he was ready to get into the meat of the story.

Most of his troops gathered around the televisions and stared at the screen contently. Unfortunately for this nearly defeated regiment, Lee was the only one among them that could understand any English. He turned his head slowly and glared at the screen with a mild level of contempt as the report began.

“We’re here live about 15 miles east of the Kaewon industrial district. The sun may be setting here but U.S. and U.N. troops have been working around the clock to clear up the mines in what was once called the Korean Demilitarized Zone.”

If Lee could spare the calories he’d vomit right here and now. The disgusting show being displayed before him was telling him the country he once loved had died and everyone and everything he’d ever fought against stood at their door with a grotesquely smug look. Lee wouldn’t wish this kind of humiliation on his worst enemies. Not even the ones on television at this very moment.

“Given what I’ve been told, it appears that over 75% of the mines have been cleared and these noble men and women of our armed forced are trying to ensure they get every single one of them before the peace talks begin next week. Much like when the Berlin wall came down over three decades ago, this coordinated effort by so many nations around the world is another large step towards total world peace.”

“Turn it off,” ordered Lee.

The young soldier immediately pressed the power button and the broadcast terminated with a defying whine before being engulfed in lifelessness. All of Lee’s soldiers quietly turned to face him and patiently awaited his translation. Their superior looked up and gave them a sullen and defeated look. This daily charade was growing on his patience. There was only so much bad news one could take in a single day. Daily radio reports from his commanding officers which were supposed to encourage and inspire just reminded them how truly screwed they all were. The former proud military force had been crumbled into a few hundred soldiers that wasn’t even worth of their name. Now they were just a defiant group of rebels slowly awaiting their inevitable capture or death.

“Colonel,” an inquisitive soldier spoke hoping to break the tension in the room. This was merely to remind their superior of the duty he had to his troops.

“The Americans have almost completed clearing out the mines in the DMZ.”

A heavy sigh exited the Colonel’s lips as he stated the last piece of important information.

“They say it should be completed within the week.”

The collected mass of soldiers shared looks of discomfort with one another. With each passing day, the chances of their rebellion succeeded dwindled.

As desperate and hopeless as their situation looked, Lee was constantly assured by his superiors that their saving grace was on their way. He only needed to hold out just a little while longer until the perfect time to strike revealed itself.

“Colonel Lee!” Shouted a soldier from the other corner of the cave. “I just received a transmission from General Byun.”

He ran over to his superior carrying a piece of paper with all of the information he’d carefully jotted down in the last few minutes.

Though enthusiastic, the Colonel didn’t pay it much thought. He casually took the piece of paper from his subordinate and began to give it a once over near the dim light of his nearby candle. The first words of this message sent a shock of delight through Lee’s heart that rapidly coursed through his veins.

Ryoo Myung-Dae had accomplished his mission.

The champion of the North Korean army. The man that was supposed to help them climb out of this desolate state and rise up again had completed his journey. Only a few select members of the military knew of his existence. Stories of his triumphs were a thing of legend amongst his people. His victories funded the North Korean Army’s great resistance.

There was still more of the message. This was what Colonel Lee and his troops have been waiting to hear for the last six months. A newfound surge of energy flowed within the Colonel’s veins. He exploded from his chair and turned to face his troops with a proud, borderline smug look on his face.

“Our time to strike has finally arrived. Pack up your things. Tomorrow morning, we leave for America.”

March 23rd, 2013 11:49PM

Las Vegas, NV

Wandering through the garden of the cathedral drew less prying eyes than Michael had anticipated. There were six young men dressed similarly to Adriel tending to a garden filled with various ripe fruits and vegetables. Large high-pressure sodium lamps illuminated the area from all sides, simulating sunlight that these delicate plants desperately need to grow and prosper. A foreign presence in their area didn’t even draw a casual passing glance. They were all so focused in their work it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“There are only a few of us here but this garden provides adequate sustenance for our group. These boys know how important it is to stay well nourished. The care they show for these fruits and vegetables is the very same they give towards one another.”

Adriel answered questions Michael hadn’t even thought to ask. It was almost as if he anticipated what to say before his guest had a chance to inquire about. This rubbed Michael the wrong way. From the very moment they met, Adriel had Michael’s number. The odds were entirely in their favor at this moment. Michael could feel a twinge of fear brewing from his abdomen. This vile emotion is something he hadn’t felt since the incident so many years ago. A reminder of that day extinguished that hindering feeling with a burning, hate-filled flame.

They approached the large wooden doors of the cathedral. Adriel stepped ahead and opened one to allow his guest to pass through first. At this distance, Michael was able to examine the handwork of the architect. This structure was solid and built like a rock despite it being old-fashioned in looks. It must have been built recently.

“This building one of our newest. Our organization had the opportunity to place a new location here some time ago and naturally, we seized the chance to have a presence in the area commonly referred to as the city of sin.”

Michael felt his nagging sense of apprehension return. It was almost as if this entire event was scripted. On paper, it would have been utterly ridiculous to even placate the thought of coming down here. However, he and Adriel both knew that this is where they’d end up having this exact conversation in this exact place.

They continued to walk through the church side by side at this point. It looked so ordinary by comparison. This place wasn’t as dolled up as some of the similar structures on the surface were. Dozens of wood colored pews of equal size and length were organized in a harmonious fashion along the red carpeted aisle. A large symbol of the cross hung majestically at the opposite end of the entrance. Hundreds of candles kept the area full of soft and welcoming light. A grandiose stone alter was affixed to the end of the aisle and naturally, the Holy Bible sat quietly on top of it. It was unshakably familiar. Michael hadn’t seen anything like this since the day the Hunt ended.