The Rogue Agent Read online

  The leaf had dried now, but a portion of it was incomplete, so it looked like a shark with its jaw fully extended. I looked over my shoulder, reaching into my jacket pocket for my paintbrush to fix it. My hand froze halfway to my pocket; eyes glued to the bottom of the black gate, where the rock connected. It was hard to miss, since the gate there was dented and a piece of the black metal bar had broken off. Both of my hands went to my back pocket, afraid the paintbrush might explode.

  How did it do that? As far as I knew, nothing from my art set was labeled as a firearm. And it definitely wasn’t something I’d picked up from my mother.

  I looked out at the park again. It wasn't too dark out, but the fog was really setting in. The air was getting damp too, making it hard to breathe. Between that and the potential bomb in my pocket, I was quickly growing uncomfortable. I made the executive decision to cut this park day short.

  I picked myself up off of the gate, and cupped my hands around my mouth. “Chloe, let’s go!” I called out. No answer. I tilted my neck up and stood on my tiptoes to see the far end of the playground. I couldn't see her anywhere.

  Then I heard her scream.

  ✽✽✽

  “Chloe!” I yelled. I dropped my backpack and art bag by the gate and ran out into the park. I took deep breaths as I went over there. Part of me started to freak out real easily. I looked down and could barely see the wood shavings underneath my feet. With how thick it got, the worst that happened was that Chloe didn't see where she was going and probably twisted her ankle somewhere.

  When I got there, I took a look around. I didn't see her on the jungle gym or the merry-go-round where she had just been.

  “Chloe, where did you go?” Then I looked up, and there she was.

  She was sitting at the top of the slide, with her hands in her lap, and her eyes closed. Not sliding down. Not saying anything. Just sitting, like she was going to take a nap sitting up. But stranger than that, was the fog around her. It looked darker than the normal fog on the ground. It swirled around her, and Chloe started to sway with it as it moved. It didn't look safe to me at all.

  I started to run over to the slide, but the fog around her moved all of a sudden. It turned to face my direction—if fog even had a direction to face—and I stopped altogether. I didn't know what the heck it was, or what it wanted with my little sister. But I didn't want to find out.

  I walked slowly over to the slide and started to climb up it. All the fog did was turn to face me again. Or at least, I thought it was. All I had to go off of was that it was thicker in the direction that was in front of me.

  Then I was high enough to reach her. I grabbed the bottom of her foot, and started to shake her.

  “Chloe!” I whispered as loud as I could. “Wake up, it's time to go.”

  Chloe muttered something I couldn't make out. I gave a quick sigh of relief because she was alive. I climbed a little higher so I could reach her ankle with both hands. Then I started to pull her down with me, away from the fog.

  The fog didn't seem to like that.

  It made a painful shrieking sound that rattled my ears. But I didn't let go of Chloe. I yanked hard and wriggled her out of the fog's grip.

  We both slid down the slide, and I tried to shake Chloe awake, but she wouldn't budge. It was getting us nowhere, with time we didn't have to waste. The fog was already snaking down the side of the slide. I put Chloe over my shoulders and began to run off of the playground. Then I tripped and dropped her in the grass. I looked back to see what I had tripped on.

  It was more fog, trying to wrap itself around my ankle. I stood up and pulled my leg free in time to see all of the fog in the park come together to the darker piece that had Chloe, until it was all swirling together like a funnel cloud. The bottom of it swirled faster and it started to suck Chloe up. I dove to catch her, but the cloud sucked her up.

  I started to panic. My heart was beating fast. I stammered for ideas. Then I grabbed the orange paintbrush out of my back pocket, pulling it out of the canister.

  “Okay, I don't know how you did it the last time, but please do it again,” I said to the paintbrush in my hand. I hoped my politeness would make a difference. It didn't. Instead it just sat there, dripping small blotches of paint that did not explode.

  “Work, crazy thing!” I shouted, swinging the brush around. “Save my sister!”

  But nothing happened. Even worse, the cloud must have heard me, because it started turning its funnel in my direction.

  “Oh, perfect,” I said, feeling a little bit hysterical. The cloud could hear me.

  I threw the paintbrush up at the cloud as a last-ditch effort.

  In the blink of an eye, it disappeared in the funnel and storm. The cloud continued to come towards me, growing to a size that quickly covered the size of the park. Then all of a sudden, a small orange explosion burst a side of the cloud open. I saw Chloe spinning around by the force of the cloud. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the hole sealed up. Chloe was gone again.

  So it needed to be thrown like a grenade or something? I still didn't get it, but if one paintbrush did that much...I needed to get to my art bag.

  The cloud shrieked again, much louder this time. It rumbled through the whole park. I covered my ears and yelled to try to drown out the sound. When it stopped, I got up off the grass and ran in the direction of the gate. Then I felt the wind blow past me faster and faster. The dark cloud must have been spinning faster to suck me up. I tried to take another step, but the cloud's force started to pull me back towards the cloud. I hit the ground mid-step and grabbed tufts of grass, trying to army crawl to the gate where my bag was. In the darkness and chaos of the wind, all I could make out was where the grass met the park gate. That was where I set my art bag. So I kept my eyes fixed on that, holding on for dear life with each inch I crawled.

  “Here!” yelled a voice I didn't recognize. All I saw in front of me were a pair of boots. I used what energy I could manage to look up without letting go.

  It was the cop.

  I couldn't see him very well before, but now I could see he had tan skin and a scar along his cheek.

  He held out my art bag to me in one hand, and was holding onto the park gate with his other. I started to reach for the bag, but the second I let go of the grass, I felt myself getting pulled backwards. I tightened my grip until my knuckles turned white.

  “If I let go, the cloud will suck me in too!” I yelled at him. “Can't you go get help or something?”

  The cop shook his head. “Grab the bag, and let go.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. I looked back at the black swirling funnel cloud, ripping up the ground behind me. Then I turned to face the cop.

  “Are you insane?!”

  The cop laughed at my comment. In the middle of everything going on, he was laughing? He must have been insane. The cop shook his head and pointed to the cloud with the hand that held my art bag. “This is how you'll save your sister!”

  Then he tossed the bag into the air, and let it fly toward the storm.

  ✽✽✽

  I screamed and jumped up to grab the bag. It almost slipped out of my grip, but I caught it by the handle and wrapped it around my hand. I had my art bag. But now there was a new problem: I was flying into the funnel cloud at the speed of a roller coaster.

  I tried to keep myself as straight as I could, even though if I hit anything at this speed, I would probably die. But if that cop was right, then maybe I actually had a plan.

  This was my one shot to make it work, though. I reached into the art bag and pulled out every orange paintbrush I had. (I wasn't sure what color they had to be, but I wasn't going to chance it.) Then everything went black. I was in the cloud's funnel.

  “Chloe?!” I shouted. I couldn't see her in all the cloud's darkness. But there was no way she would have heard me. The wind ripped the sound right out of my mouth. All I had was the plan. I felt each of the orange paintbrushes in my hand. There were five. I took a deep breath and
pulled one out of its canister. Then I threw it up into the funnel, counting each second for the explosion:

  1...2...3...4...

  On the fourth second, I heard a high-pitched humming sound, followed by a whistle that sounded like fire erupting to life. I looked up at the top of the funnel and saw an orange burst of light. Light opened up at the top of the funnel. The force of the cloud weakened, and I felt myself fall more.

  It worked! The explosion must have burnt up all of the oxygen in the air inside the funnel, causing it to dissipate. But, as quickly as it disappeared, the funnel picked up speed again. The cloud started to regain darkness up at the top.

  I would have to send them a lot closer together so it couldn't repair itself. And it was now or never. If this thing got any higher, I wouldn’t have enough paintbrushes to work with. I let another paintbrush go, and watched as it flew up and disappeared. I down counted the seconds in my head: 3...2...1...now.

  I let go of the next paintbrush. Then there was the humming sound and the first paintbrush exploded above me. The pressure lessened, and I felt myself fall. And I counted again: 3...2...1...now. I let go of the next paintbrush.

  Only two left, I thought. The plan was working. With each explosion, I fell more and the funnel opened up more. I could see the ground now, about a story's height away. I counted again: 3...2...1...OOF! Something big and lumpy slammed into me and I lost focus. The paintbrush exploded somewhere to the right of me. . We fell more. I grabbed hold of the mass, and looked down. It was Chloe, her black hair whizzing around in all directions. She was also missing a shoe, but that seemed to be the least of our problems. I quickly threw the next paintbrush, but the gap was too far apart. By the time I had thrown it, the funnel was furiously trying to rip up momentum and speed. Even if I threw the last one, it wouldn't give us enough force to escape. I looked down at the ground, at least 6 feet away still. And the cloud was quickly gaining back momentum, carrying us higher and higher. I looked down at Chloe, unconscious in my arms. I had to get her out of here.

  Without letting go, I swung her down, towards the eye of the funnel. The force catapulted me close to the ground, but the cloud was quickly pulling us back up. I took the paintbrush and tried to push it into the ground, but I missed. The cloud started to tear us away from the ground. My heart ached. I knew what I had to do to reach it. I closed my eyes, and pushed off of Chloe hard. Then I took the paintbrush and shoved it hard into the ground, and let go.

  I flew back up into the storm, desperately looking for Chloe.

  3...

  There she was! Towards the top of the tunnel, I watched her body rag-dolling around the funnel.

  2...

  I reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her to me and putting my arms around her.

  1...FWOOSH!

  The paintbrush exploded in a blinding orange light. Looking down at it, I could see the funnel cloud evaporating from the force of the explosion. Quickly after, the force keeping us in the air disappeared too. Then we fell.

  2. The Fog Strikes Back (In My Nightmares)

  I flailed around, trying to twist my body so that I fell back first, and Chloe was on top of me. I hit the ground hard, and the force of Chloe on top of me pushed all of the air out of my lungs. My vision clouded up with stars and I gasped for air as I lied there in the grass.

  By the time I could see and breathe safely again, Chloe was gone. I looked around in every direction for her. I didn't see the cop either.

  I struggled to my feet, and called out for her, “Chloe!” She popped her head out from the side of some playground equipment and waved.

  “Finally,” she shouted, running over to the grass. “You're done with your nap. I got bored of waiting for you. Plus, one of my shoes was missing. You actually woke up at the perfect time.” She held up her shoe and pointed to it with a big grin to complete her achievement.

  I pulled her close and gave her a hug. “Are you okay?!” I shouted. “Nothing's broken?”

  “Fhatryuhtalkingabrmph?” Her voice was muffled in my chest.

  “What did you say?” I asked, giving her the smallest bit of breathing room

  “What are you talking about?” Chloe asked again. “I didn't hurt myself on the playground, if that's what you're saying.”

  “No,” I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “I mean the freak tornado, and the cop and the exploding paintbrushes!” Chloe's face was a painted look of confusion and fear.

  “I didn't see any of that.” she said, shaking her head. Then she was quiet for a moment. The look on her face told me she was trying to put the pieces together. But I knew she’d come up with the wrong conclusion…

  ““Were you...” Chloe started to say, but she stopped. Then she looked down at the ground.

  “Was I what?”

  “Were you playing…make-believe again?”

  “What? No way.” I exclaimed, shaking my head.

  “Okay,” I continued, “I realize maybe you were unconscious for most of it, but what about all the fog? You can't say you didn't see that. It came at you while you were awake.”

  “What fog?” she asked. “For the middle of November, it's probably been the most fog-free day possible. Maybe we should get you home.”

  Chloe didn't even wait for my protest. She took my hand, and we left the park.

  ✽✽✽

  The whole way home, Chloe denied the every part of the story, repeating phrases like “that didn't happen,” or “I don't remember that.”

  She even claimed she didn’t remember the rock and the seagull or why we went to the park in the first place. I decided it was no use trying to convince her at this point. We were almost home anyway.

  Our house was near the end of a cul-de-sac just down the street from Three Streams. It was the only house on the block with a different colored roof. All of the other houses were black or red-roofed. Ours was gray. No one in our family used to think much of it except for my mom, who would point it out to me almost every time we would drive home.

  When we reached the front door, Chloe ran up the porch steps and blocked it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her.

  Chloe folded her arms, and said, “Either you're going to tell him what you saw, or I am.”

  “Neither of us is going to tell him,” I ordered. “Dad doesn't need to know. You don't believe me anyway. Let's just drop it.”

  Don’t get me wrong; Chloe not believing me wasn't the worst of my problems. Dad would be a whole different story, however.

  He had a problem-solver's mentality coupled with a severe lack of compassion. For all I knew, he would think I was schizophrenic, and I would end up in a psychiatrist's office or something. Again.

  I shuddered at the thought.

  “You know he cares,” Chloe said. “Just—” she paused, trying to figure out how to verbalize her point.

  “...in his own Dad way.” she decided.

  Right, I thought. His own robotic way. If only Chloe understood what I went through.

  There was a screeching sound next to the front door. Chloe and I turned to look, and saw Dad opening the kitchen window.

  “Welcome home, girls.” He said with a wave. “What are you doing out there?” Chloe opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.

  “We were just coming inside, Dad.” I told him.

  “Well, please be quick and quiet about it,” he said. “I'm on a very important phone call right now.” He pointed at something in his hand. I had to squint my eyes through the window screen to see that it was his phone. I nodded in response, and he walked away speaking to some co-worker:

  “…Yeah, that was just my daughters at the door.”

  I turned back to Chloe and tried my hardest not to give her a smug grin. “He's on the phone,” I told her.

  “I heard,” Chloe answered. “But you should still tell him.”

  She opened the front door, tossing her backpack down in the middle of the entryway.

  “Just wait until
he gets off of the phone.” I chuckled at her.

  “Sure, I'll do that.”

  “Good. Now if you'll excuse me,” Chloe grinned, “the television awaits.” Then she skipped over to the living room.

  Luckily for me, Dad was almost always on the phone or in an important meeting of some sort. Since Mom left a little over a year ago, he had to pick up more jobs at his company to support the household. So he was busy with work all the time.

  And it did pay off. There was food in the fridge. A working heater in the house. Pillows and blankets on the bed. But there didn't seem to be any time for him to love his daughters. So if there was a problem, it was more about getting rid of it, so he could get back to his work.

  And that wasn't what I needed, because there was no problem to get rid of. I knew what I saw.

  I turned down the hallway and walked up the stairs to my room. I set my backpack by the door, and tossed my art bag on my bed. My heart skipped a beat. The window above the bed shone light down on it. It reminded me of last May, when I got it. A birthday gift from my older brother Lucas. I glanced to my nightstand by the bed, and the picture that sat on top of it. I picked it up and sat down in the rocking chair near the bed as I stared at it.

  We were on a family outing to the park. The whole family was there. Mom was pushing me on the swing, and Dad pushed Chloe on the swing next to me. Lucas took the picture, balancing on a swing in front of Dad. Lucas was always there for me when I needed him. “You would believe me if you were here,” I asked him. “Wouldn't you, Lucas?”

  I looked up from the picture at the art bag again, making a mental note to go get more orange paintbrushes. I couldn't wrap my mind around how they exploded like that.

  Or where the crazy fog-funnel cloud had come from in the first place, and why it went after Chloe. All I knew is that we were safe now, and I wanted to keep it that way. I brought my feet up onto the chair and hugged my knees. Before I knew it, I had drifted off.