4522 {The Number Series}

47

"Now we want to know why you are here, in this apartment, instead of your dead body being burned and disposed of by the CIty." Archer leaned forward, arms resting on his knees, with narrowed hazel eyes. Archer trusted only a few people and what they said. Two people, to be exact, and that consisted of myself and Jericho. He would, without a doubt, question all of Harold's words.

"It was staged so you would believe I was dead." He said simply.

"I think we got that," I said. I had not taken a sip of my tea while Harold continuously took sips of his as if he were having a normal night.

His cup clinked as he put it down, clearly my words had triggered him. He folded his hands before looking me in the eyes. "I knew Macallister would not let you, or Archer, go out into the rebellion without feeling as though he needed to.

You see, he is sentimental and emotionally attached to both you and I. He believes that those around him are valuable but are willing to risk those he doesn't know. But, without being wiling to sacrifice it all, we might lose. You, your friends, and those from The Third Party will be who makes this happen."

"So, you thought that by eliminating yourself, you would cause him to, what exactly?"

"Force his hand," he said shamelessly. "And, even better, it seemed to have caused all of you to do something."

"I don't like this," Archer announced. He began to stand up before I gestured for him to sit again. 

"Are you aware that Gina was killed?" I asked.

This took Harold off guard. "I was wondering why she had not been reporting to me. She was, after all, supposed to be the reason you would make it to me here if Macallister id not start involving you more in the war to come."

"Aaron showed up and shot her to prove his loyalty."

"That child was always dark," Harold muttered. "I knew the Forest would become involved on our side if we were lucky, but to send Aaron-"

"I thought the same thing," I admitted. "But it's done. He has placed himself there as if he had always belonged." 

"Of course he did." Harold scratched at his now shaved face. He had been growing it as a sign of rebellion but must have shaved it to blend in with City's requirements. "All that matters is that you're here now. We have important business to take care of."

Without hesitation he informed me, yet again, of more than Macallister had been. Harold felt as though I were the tipping point for the future war while Macallister cared too much to involve me the way I not only wanted, but needed to be. While Harold seemed to have conformed back into the City's way of life, he had not. Instead he had taken it upon himself, risking his life, by spreading the word from mouth to mouth about rising above the oppression. So far none had turned away or against him. That gave me hope. 

In a few days, most of the people in his building planned to take the the streets, encouraging others to do the same, in the hopes of having strength in numbers. 

The neighbor across the hall, an older man himself, felt strongly about destroying the system in which he was also trapped. It turned out that the entire building of people who were going to take to the streets we on the older side of age. I knew that the City separated by age even after you were out of schooling but I had not been aware of how they would force all to follow it up until the point of death.  

According to Harold, the man across the hall had been told stories, illegally of course, about a system that had existed long before any of us had been created. You held your own fate in your own hands back then. I enjoyed the sound of that. You would get what you gave. At least, for most that is how it worked. 

I found all of the information fascinating, hope stirred in me once again. Archer on the other hand was not as excited as I was. 

"I want to join you," I said. "When you go out into the streets."

"There is no guarantee anyone will join them," Archer introjected. "They might be taken down in a matter of an hour and you as well."

I wanted to disagree, tell him he was wrong that people would feel the wish for more freedom stir inside them like I had felt my entire life; but, Harold nodded in agreement with him. "None of us can be sure that the younger generations will join us. Or the older ones around this area either."

"But if they see that someone younger is part of your numbers," I said hopefully. "Maybe they will take the step?"

"In theory," Harold kept his responses as honest as he could without crushing my spirit.

"Then I still want to. Whatever it takes." Archer was taken back at my response. His jaw clenched. I could not tell for sure what he was thinking but I knew he did not want me to go. 

"That is exactly what I wanted you to say," Harold smiled. He collected the three of our cups. Archer had not even touched his. 

"I can't let you go alone," Archer lowered his voice for me to hear as Harold went to his small kitchen. 

"I won't be alone," I looked pointedly at Harold. 

"Right, because a bunch of old people are going to keep you safe," He sighed. "I guess, I'm coming with you."

*

*

Days passed. I had a lot of time to think as I sat in the small apartment. Harold had readily given his closed off room to Archer and I while he slept on his grey couch. Archer had tried several times to convince me to hold off joining those who would soon take to the streets, but to no avail. I had already made up my mind. I had done enough sitting confined in a safe place and I refused to let those fighting for a caused I believed in do it without me. The feeling of wanting to participate was only heightened when I met the man across the hall. He was about the same age as Harold and had named himself Jim. Jim had darker skin and eyes. His hair had begun to speckle with dark grey. HIs voice was deep and hoarse. I had connected with him in a way I had not expected to. Jim and Harold had seemed to know each other for a long time and felt comfortable in the presence of other people. I found this reassuring. People were separated so that the interactions were kept less personal. To have another in your apartment that was not an Officer searching for suspicious material, entirely unheard of. 

Archer and I spent as much time together as we could during the time as well. Neither of us could predict the future outcome of the events that would happen shortly. I kissed him often, held him as close as I could humanly hold him, and listened to his voice as if I would have to commit it to memory forever. I could tell he was reacting similarly to me. 

I contemplated many what ifs. I let my mind run while with both positive and negative possibilities until the day that it was no longer a what if, but a what next.

Together the four of us stood in Harold's living space for possibly the last time. 

At seven in the morning we walked through the halls, Archer holding my hand tightly in his, with all of the others in the building. All of them were older, wiser, than I but just as willing. Down in the streets below people of all ages were making their way to work. Little did they know that they would choose between their routine and the start of a war.