Evalene's Number: The Number Series

by Bethany Atazadeh

  “Waste of their time,” Evalene told her, struggling to keep her face calm, “Jeremiah – the captain – means nothing to me.”

  Immediately she regretted her words. At Jeremiah’s given name, Sanidine’s eyebrows skyrocketed and her eyes lit up with curiosity.

  Evalene began walking down the long dirt road, calling back over her shoulder, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going. Good to see you again.”

  Sanidine’s voice caught up to her after a long pause. “You too… be seeing you?” Her farewell twisted into a question at the end and hung in the air, unanswered.

  Evalene unclenched her fists five minutes further down the road. Without planning to, she’d started chasing after Olive and Grandma Mae.

  She stared at the trees on all sides, trying to think rationally enough to make a plan, to force her thoughts away from Jeremiah. Maybe Mae would let her stay with them for a few days. At least until she could go back to the city to check on her job applications. Especially the library. Thinking of the library led to thoughts of Jeremiah, which just left her more confused. As she drew further away from the city, she crossed paths with fewer people.

  Evalene wished she’d asked for a landmark. Not knowing where the farm was, she needed to catch up to Olive and Mae while they were still on the road. If she didn’t, she could easily pass by their home without even knowing it. She glanced at the sun, trying to estimate how much time she had left. Not long.

  Evalene took off running. She tired quickly, forced to alternate between a walk and a jog. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on her. When she slowed her pace for what felt like the millionth time, she was panting hard, gulping in air. Sweat dripped down her back. She focused on a step at a time.

  Coming to the top of a hill, Evalene finally glimpsed two figures at the bottom. She recognized Olive’s golden blonde hair and Mae’s silvery-white tresses. She breathed a sigh of relief. Jolting into a run once more, muscles screaming, she tore down the hill towards them as they disappeared again around a bend in the road.

  “Hey!” she called as she got closer. “Wait for me!”

  Her legs felt like jelly as they came back into sight. They stopped to face her, confusion wrinkling their brows.

  “Evie, what’re you doing here?” Olive raced forward to meet her halfway. “This is so exciting and unexpected! Did you decide to come to the farm after all? Wait, what about…” she dropped her voice to a whisper. “What about joining Jeremiah? And the revolution?”

  Breathless, Evalene shook her head, pressing her lips together firmly. “Changed my mind.”

  For once, Olive didn’t question her. Instead she looped Evalene’s elbow in her own, and swung them both around to face her grandmother. “Grandma Mae, Evie’s coming to the farm with us!”

  Evalene produced her best smile, but Mae weighed her with her eyes before responding. “You are always welcome,” was all she said as she turned back to the road ahead and began walking. “Come.”

  Letting out the breath she’d been holding, Evalene yielded to Olive’s tugging and together they followed Mae.

  “Oh, I’m so happy you decided to come with! You’ll love Mr. Carrots and Mr. Beets – we named the goats after their favorite foods – they’ll do tricks if they’re in the mood or if you have treats,” Olive chattered on, not asking Evalene to explain herself. Thankful for the trust, Evalene willed herself to listen and forget everything for a while.

  Once they arrived, Olive’s tour of the farm, mixed with Mae reminding them to take care of the chores, kept them busy during the day. But when they sat down to dinner that night, Mae lifted her fork, pausing to look at Evalene. “What made you choose to come work on the farm, Evie?” The older lady took a bite of ham, her brown eyes sharp and savvy.

  Unsure where to start, Evalene hesitantly asked, “Has Jeremiah ever told you his Number?”

  “Can’t say that he has,” Mae answered. Blowing on her next bite to cool it, she glanced at her granddaughter. “What about you, love?”

  “Nope,” Olive responded around a mouthful. She shoveled in another bite. “That doesn’t mean a whole lot here, sorry to tell you. Is it good or bad… or, um, average?”

  Evalene’s brows rose. “It’s definitely bad.” How did Olive still not understand low versus high Numbers? “He’s a 28.”

  “Okay,” Olive replied. “Hold on… that’s towards the bottom, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well that’s good! The lower the better. It proves to everyone that Numbers don’t matter, since he’s obviously a great leader. I’m sure it’s working already!”

  “But he’s not proving anything to anyone,” Evalene argued. “It’s a secret.”

  “Oh…” Olive frowned.

  “Exactly. He’s lying to everyone.”

  Olive turned to Grandma Mae. “Why would he do that?”

  Mae thought for a moment. “It’s possible that he doesn’t want anyone to doubt his leadership.” Evalene’s fork sat on her plate, food forgotten. That was fair. She hadn’t considered the fact that no one would listen to a low Number. But couldn’t he have told her? The questions were giving her a headache.

  Mae set her silverware down, tenting her fingers on the table thoughtfully. “I know you feel lied to. But did Jeremiah tell you a different Number? Or give a false Number to someone else?”

  “No… not exactly.” Evalene frowned at the realization. He’d never outright lied to her. “But he wore the blue of a high Number when we met.”

  “Ah yes,” Mae touched her cloth napkin to her lips before tucking it back in her lap. “I’ve heard of the color laws. My favorite color is green like the trees. I’d have a hard time giving that up.”

  Olive nodded. “Me too. I love my yellow dress.”

  The deception was clear to Evalene, she couldn’t figure out why they didn’t see it. “As far as anyone from Eden is concerned, it’s dishonest!”

  “Aren’t you a Number 29?” Olive piped up with unfortunate timing, as she remembered Evalene’s tattoo. “And you came onto the ship dressed in high Number clothes?”

  Frustrated, Evalene frowned at her. “Yes. I lied too. But he knew my Number and so did you. And I’m not the one leading a revolution.” The excuses rang false even in her own ears. Though it hurt that Jeremiah hadn’t told her, it made sense that he kept his Number a secret.

  “Evie, help me understand.” Mae’s voice was gentle but firm. “If the captain is, and always has been, extremely clear about his desire to rid the world of these awful ‘numbers,’ then why do you feel that the number he was given in the past would even still be relevant today?”

  Evalene blinked, shrugging at the obvious answer. “Your Number is who you are.”

  “I disagree,” Mae replied. “You don’t need anyone else to tell you who you are.” The words reminded Evalene of her mother. She knew what came next.

  “You’re saying I have to decide who I am,” she quoted Pearl, “choose my own Number.”

  “No. Definitely not,” Mae set her fork down with a full bite on it, her clear brown eyes meeting Evalene’s squarely. “You would get it just as wrong as anyone else.”

  Olive took a bite, the crunching of the sausage in her mouth the only sound in the room. She swallowed loudly.

  Evalene had never felt more confused in her entire life. “But then how am I supposed to find out my Number?”

  “Who says you have a number?”

  Mae wasn’t making sense. “You know what I mean, how am I supposed to find out who I am?”

  “You ask the One who made you.” Mae’s fiery eyes burned bright as she smiled. “You ask your Creator.”

  Ah yes. Evalene should have expected that answer. God. Were Jeremiah’s God and Mae’s God the same? It seemed so. Their faith was extremely different from the priests back home. Evalene contemplated the idea of asking God, but she’d never spoken to him herself. People didn’t pray in Eden. She tucked the idea away to consider later, when she was alo
ne.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Evalene finally broke it. “Even if I believe that Numbers aren’t real,” her worldview felt like it might shatter at the thought, “it still doesn’t change the fact that I can’t trust Jeremiah anymore. I can’t trust anyone.”

  Mae set her fork down carefully, giving Evalene her full attention. “Why do you say that?”

  The only way to explain was to tell them what happened. She described her road trip with Kevra, surviving the escape and each checkpoint only to be betrayed by her best friend. She clenched her fists underneath the table, trying to keep her voice even, though it wobbled as she described that moment when she’d woken up, without hope, abandoned. “That’s where Jeremiah found me.”

  And he’d saved her.

  She remembered waking up to his concerned eyes.

  Not only had he rescued her and cleaned her wounds, but he’d also offered her safe passage on his ship. He’d known her Number all along, known she was a runaway, desperate to escape. Known she was trapped.

  “He told me that he didn’t care what my Number was, that Numbers meant nothing to him,” she whispered, more to herself than to the women.

  “That sounds like the captain,” Olive ventured.

  “But how do I know that he’s different from Kevra? Kevra lied to me too.” She paused, feeling bad comparing him to her old friend. His kindness to her cast a spotlight on how inferior Kevra had always treated her. “Maybe Jeremiah didn’t lie… but he didn’t tell me the truth either.”

  Mae nodded thoughtfully. “I can tell that it matters a great deal to you.”

  Evalene nodded.

  Mae stood up, moving to the window to view their crops. “We planted seeds over a week ago. Many still haven’t grown. If you dug them up right now because they failed you, that would be the end of them.” Mae turned back to face Evalene and Olive. “If you cut people out of your life when they break your trust, you will certainly end that friendship as well.”

  “But if instead,” Mae continued, “you work through the pain and forgive them, in time the roots may grow strong and create a new thing much more valuable that what it was in the beginning. The little seed will bloom into a powerful friendship.”

  The simple analogy made Evalene feel like Mae was correcting a little girl. Maybe she had been acting childish. “You think I should talk to him.”

  Mae smiled at Evalene, eyes twinkling. “I do.” She and Olive began collecting the empty plates, cleaning up dinner and waving Evalene away when she offered to help.

  “Maybe you’d feel better if you did talk to him,” Olive said as she took Evalene’s plate. “We could go now – they don’t leave until morning!” The idea made Evalene nervous, and at the same time, she hated the thought of not getting a chance to hear what he had to say.

  But Mae shook her head. “It’s late. Sleep on it, and you can decide what to do tomorrow.”

  They gave Evalene their spare cot, and she lay awake well past when they’d gone to bed, covered in an extra blanket and using her arm for a pillow. She struggled to get comfortable. Her mind didn’t know where to settle, whether to think about God, or Jeremiah, or the revolution, or what she was going to do. Though it still stung that Jeremiah covered up his true Number, she understood. She even felt a little embarrassed at her reaction. Why did she care so much? It wasn’t as if she meant anything to him. But could she still join the revolution or would he think her leaving meant she’d made her decision?

  It was a long time before she drifted off to sleep.

  The first soft light of the sun gently touching her face woke her. The tiny one room farmhouse threw her for a moment before she remembered why she was there. All the questions from the night before flooded her mind.

  Staying in the warmth of her blanket on the little cot, Evalene tried to decide what to do as she listened to Olive and Grandma Mae quietly rise and make breakfast. Finally, she made her choice. Stretching, she sat up. “What smells so delicious?”

  “Oh, good morning!” Olive perked up, coming over to plop down on the cot next to Evalene. “That’s probably the eggs and bacon. But we also have fresh coffee brewing. I love coffee so much. Have you ever had it?” Evalene had, but Olive brought her a full cup before she could answer.

  “I’ve been thinking…” Evalene began, and both women looked over, waiting. “I guess it would be fair to talk to Jeremiah.” She found herself wanting to hear his side. And to join the fight, if he still wanted her.

  “You’ll need help finding your way back,” Olive said. “There’s a few turns that could get tricky. I’ll go! But the car’s not fixed yet, so it’s a long walk – we need to go right now, or we might miss him!”

  Olive glanced at her grandmother as if expecting her to disagree, but Mae just nodded. “Go ahead.” Olive squealed and hugged Mae before running to the door. Mae held out her arms to hug Evalene as well, and for a moment Evalene didn’t want to leave the safety of the farmhouse and these new friends. But she let go, and turned towards the door, determined.

  Within moments, they were sprinting down the road back to the camp. Evalene’s muscles felt like rubber. She rarely ran anywhere, and now she was running for the second day in a row. Her legs weren’t responding well. They felt distant, like someone else’s legs that she was operating from far away. Soon she couldn’t run anymore, and they slowed to a walk.

  Olive pushed her on at a fast walk. Watching the sun, Olive frowned and eventually asked Evalene if she could run again. They did, and Evalene kept going until her lungs were on fire. Gasping for breath, she nearly fell over. She bent down, planning to rest her hands on her knees, but kept going until she hit the ground.

  Olive didn’t notice for a few more seconds, and had to run back a dozen feet.

  When Olive held out a hand to help her up, Evalene took it. They jogged on. Then walked again for Evalene’s sake. She hoped they would make it in time.

  30

  Day Four: The Departure

  J EREMIAH’S EYES FELT SWOLLEN shut as he listened to the camp wake. Juno licked his fingers where his hand hung off the bed. He ignored it all for as long as he could. He needed to get up, dress, prepare. They set sail in just a few short hours. But his head ached and eyes itched from lack of sleep. The back of his throat burned from arguing all day with the council up until the decision yesterday. And then again the moment he’d stepped down from the makeshift pickup truck stage, surrounded by the refugees, full of questions.

  “What if I’m scared but still want to come?”

  “Will you still go back to Eden if everyone leaves?”

  “Why did you spend the last few years forming an army if you were just going to send everyone away at the last minute? I’m not going to fight if we don’t have enough men!”

  “Will there be anyone left tomorrow?”

  And, his least favorite, “Don’t be a fool. This isn’t from God. Why would He tell you to do something so stupid? You’re all going to die if you do this.”

  Over and over. Person after person.

  He’d shifted on his feet as he stood in the same place throughout the morning, missing lunch and dinner, repeating himself to each new frowning face.

  “Pray about your decision.”

  “Yes, we’re going no matter what.”

  And most of the time, “Thank you for your concern. But I have to do what I believe is right.”

  He rubbed his face and sighed.

  Time to face the music once more.

  It felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

  He dragged himself to a sitting position, absently petting Juno, whose tail wagged in appreciation. His head pounded, hinting at the beginnings of a migraine. That and the lack of sleep felt like a fog clouding his mind.

  After the crowds yesterday, it had been the council once more all night. Finalizing decisions. Strategizing how to use a smaller army. Long past when everyone else slept, he’d been berated by red-faced council members. He could still
picture Adri, one of his friends on the council, trying to calm Flint. “We all voted on this decision. It’s not soley the captain’s responsibility.”

  And there was Flint’s frustration as he yelled back, “I know what I voted, but the camp is nearly empty! How do we know the dream didn’t come from the devil himself?” Jeremiah could count on one hand the people who still considered him sane. But the decision had been made. They would fight.

  He strode towards the cook tent, swerving away from the line to go through the back. Pushing through the tent flap, he silently prayed no one would notice him. But he barely made it to the back table.

  “What is that blasted dog doing in my kitchen?”

  Hand hovering over a sandwich, Jeremiah turned to where Trona’s finger pointed. Juno’s head poked through the tent flap, and she was ever so slowly placing her first paw inside the tent as Trona yelled.

  “Juno, out.” Jeremiah’s reaction was slow, but the dog obeyed, huffing as her head disappeared through the flap. Turning back to the table, he picked up the sandwich he’d been eyeing and stuffed almost half of it in his mouth before anyone else could stop him. He closed his eyes in relief, swallowing the bite nearly whole, and took another.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Trona’s voice said behind him. Still chewing, Jeremiah faced Trona, and took another bite. “Sanidine ran into that newer gal from the last boatload you brought from Eden? The jumpy one?”

  “Evie?” Jeremiah lowered what was left of his sandwich. “What about her?”

  Trona fidgeted. That was odd. “Sanidine said she passed her on the road yesterday. Dead set on leaving camp and mighty upset about something.” The cook turned and waved. “Sanidine, come tell the captain what you told me.”

  One of the young women left the prep tables to join them, clearing her throat and wiping her hands on her apron. “Yes, um, well… it seemed to me that she was unusually upset with you, Captain. But I might have been imagining things. In fact, I’m sure I did.”

  Jeremiah looked from Trona to Sanidine, trying to understand. He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs, but the movement sent stabs of pain shooting into his skull. After a moment’s pause, where both women shifted nervously, Jeremiah asked, “What did she say exactly?”