Evalene's Number

by Bethany Atazadeh

  Their captors were dragging them by their elbows into the Regulator motorboat, not caring if they stumbled. Thrown onto the bottom of the boat, Evalene curled up, closing her eyes and her ears to Olive’s pleading, and begged God to let her die right then.

  It would be better here than what they would do to her.

  She could throw herself into the sea... she peeked one eye open. The water wasn’t even visible from her vantage point in the bottom of the boat. She’d never make it. She felt bruises forming on her shins from being hauled over the metal sides.

  Olive’s voice reached her ears.

  “It’ll be okay,” Olive was saying. “Evie, we’re going to be ok–” she yelped as one of the Regulators struck her across the face. His gloves were rough. Evalene watched as her friend’s left cheek grew red and swollen.

  The numbness receded. Evalene felt a surge of anger.

  She stared at the sour-mouthed man who had hit her friend.

  Through her anger, she made a choice. Evalene angled her body to the side, leaning awkwardly on her hands where they were tied behind her back, pushing herself up until she was sitting tall. She glared at the man with the puckered mouth.

  What more could they do to her, that wasn’t already going to happen?

  The hostile Regulator who’d hit Olive was stocky, built wide and short. His cropped hair was bleached a platinum blonde underneath his heavy helmet. He cradled his gun as if hoping to use it.

  As the boat neared the docks, he barked a command to the waiting men. There were only six or seven of them, but it was enough. Evalene didn’t have the skills to fight even one, and she doubted Olive could take more than one or two. While the men on the docks leapt to secure the boats, their leader moved out of Evalene’s line of sight.

  Only then did Evalene notice the Regulator behind him, who’d been steering. His olive skin, though darker than her own, seemed light against his thick black hair. His forehead and eyes were stern, his fists clenched, but his frown was directed at the leader, rather than at the girls. His grip on the weapon at his side was so tense, his fingertips were turning white.

  When Evalene met his eyes, he looked away.

  She didn’t have time to wonder about it. A vicious pair of hands yanked her to her feet so hard her arm nearly popped out of its socket. She could guess without looking who hauled her roughly over the side of the boat onto the dock.

  The younger man moved away from the wheel, still not meeting her gaze, and helped Olive stand. Behind her, Evalene’s captor snorted at the gentler treatment as he jerked her around to face the city. Evalene twisted her neck back, worried they were separating her and Olive. But the young Regulator who held her friend was lifting the girl – much less roughly – over the side of the boat as well.

  Evalene’s bad-tempered guard was almost wrenching her arm out of its socket. She struggled in the vise-like grip of her jailor, digging in her heels. They’d come here to fight, hadn’t they? She twisted in his grasp, succeeding in pulling away mostly due to surprise. Before she had a chance to run or somehow attack with her arms behind her back, a sharp crack sounded, knocking her off her feet.

  Off balance with her arms tied, she dropped hard and the impact knocked the air out of her lungs. The slap stung but she ignored the pain. Instead of attempting to stand, she stayed on the ground, knowing it would irritate him more if she was harder to move.

  When he reached down to haul her up, she kicked. Hard. All the years of frustration with Daeva when she couldn’t fight back were thrown into the kick. She aimed for his groin, but missed, hitting his knee instead. It was still a good blow. She enjoyed a small, tight smile of victory before his boots laid into her side. Each blow of his heavy boots left her gasping, certain that he’d broken at least one of her ribs, and the kick to her stomach made her vomit up the little bit of bile left in her stomach after the long voyage.

  Someone stopped him, and Evalene lay in the dirt, eyes closed, mentally assessing the damage. Everything hurt. Arms hauled her up on both sides. She’d been reassigned to two new Regulators who dragged her along, following in the wake of their leader.

  Olive was ahead of her now, the younger, dark haired Regulator pressing a hand to her forehead to lower it as he loaded her into the backseat of a Regulator vehicle. Picking up her feet, Evalene tried to meet Olive’s eyes as they passed, but the men blocked her view, and she was deposited in the backseat of a second vehicle.

  Isolated in the backseat, the men in front didn’t say a word. Where were they taking them? She was left alone with her thoughts as they traveled through the city, stopping briefly at check points, waved through quickly. Would she ever see Olive again?

  34

  Regulator Headquarters

  SHE DIDN’T KNOW THE city well enough to recognize where they were going until they were just blocks away from Regulator Headquarters. Evalene heard shots fired by the front of the building, but they turned down a side road before the combat was visible, and pulled up to the back of the enormous building instead. It didn’t matter. None of the rebels would know to rescue them.

  Staring at the headquarters looming over them as the vehicle pulled up to the building, Evalene felt dread fill her. But her newly found courage rose along with it.

  There was still hope.

  They dragged the girls inside the building. Evalene was only able to take in the tall ceiling, the desks on one side, and the cells on the other, before she was tossed head first into the closest cell. With her hands still shackled tightly behind her back, Evalene tucked herself inward to break the fall this time, bending her knees and twisting her body so that her right hip and shoulder hit first, hard, resulting in a shooting pain, but thankfully she avoided smashing into the ground with her face. Olive, who came in directly behind her, was not so lucky.

  Her friend landed face first on the floor directly in front of her.

  Evalene winced.

  “Olive,” she whispered. “Olive, are you okay?”

  No answer.

  Blood trickled from Olive’s forehead onto the concrete floor where it had hit. Her body angled in a way that couldn’t be comfortable, yet Olive didn’t move.

  Behind them, the metal door to their cell swung shut.

  A key turned in the lock.

  Glancing at Olive in concern, Evalene rolled over onto her back. Olive needed medical attention. Evalene pushed herself up awkwardly on one bound hand until she was sitting. She would beg them for help.

  But when she turned towards the room, the first man she saw was the angry Regulator who’d struck them both earlier. Evalene shrunk back instinctively. Her mouth was dry.

  “We don’t have time to deal with them right now,” said the man with the puckered lips. He was moving across the room towards the front of the building. “I want every man with me. We’ve got them with their tails tucked between their legs. Time to blast them before they get away!” Were the rebels really losing or was he bluffing?

  He stopped at the door, waving all his men through, but stepped in front of the young Regulator who had held Olive, effectively blocking the man’s path. “You’re staying here to guard them. I’ll take care of them, and you, when I get back.”

  The young one’s frown deepened, but he nodded.

  This time when the sour-faced man took the last few steps to the door, the younger man stayed put. As the angry Regulator swung the door open wide, he chuckled, a sharp, hacking sound. “When we crush this uprising, I look forward to your punishment.”

  He left cackling. Evalene couldn’t tell if he’d been talking to them or the younger Regulator.

  The sound faded as the door swung shut behind him.

  Evalene leaned over until she was resting against the bars of their prison, pushing off the floor, forcing her tired legs to lift her and using the bars to keep herself upright. Once standing, a wave of dizziness, leftover from the voyage, threatened to knock her back onto the ground.

  Deep breaths.

  Foc
us.

  It took a moment to find the young Regulator where he now sat in the middle of the large room, with his feet up on a desk, arms crossed, leaning back in his chair. He was frowning at the door.

  “Please sir,” Evalene called, wishing she could recall the correct Regulator titles. She guessed. “Control Leader, sir, my friend is hurt. Please, we need help!”

  After a moment of indecision, the young man swung his feet off the desk to the floor. Strolling towards them, he stopped a half dozen feet away from the bars of their cell. His face was unreadable, other than the permanent brooding stare.

  “Grausum is the Control Leader,” he said, crossing his arms again and tipping his head the slightest bit toward the door where the hostile blonde Regulator had vanished. “I’m just a Watchman.”

  “Of course.” Evalene leaned into the bars to keep her balance. She tilted her head towards Olive since her hands were unavailable to point. “My friend is hurt Mr. Watchman –” she peeked at the badge on his uniform that said C. Solomon. “Watchman Solomon.”

  “Sol,” he corrected her, dark eyes expressionless.

  “Watchman Sol,” she repeated the name he gave her, trying to be agreeable. “Please, can you do something? Even if you just untied my hands, at least then I could help her.”

  He scratched his nose and shifted his feet, but didn’t come any closer. He glanced towards the door.

  “I won’t tell the Control Leader that you helped,” Evalene bargained. “He can think I got free on my own.”

  When he still didn’t move, she pressed herself up against the bars and yelled in frustration and desperation. “Are you deaf? She’s hurt! Do you want her to die before your stupid hanging? Get a med kit!”

  Evalene didn’t know who was more startled, him or her, when he jumped into action.

  Bringing over the med kit from the wall, he twisted to take the ring of keys off his belt. Instead of untying her hands and passing the kit to her, he unlocked the cell door and surprised Evalene by entering.

  Stepping away from him, Evalene backed into the far corner, feeling vulnerable with her hands tied. But he ignored her, and bent down beside Olive. First he removed the restraints on the girl’s wrists. Once her hands were free, he gently rolled her over onto her back.

  Olive moaned.

  Evalene watched her friend’s eyes flutter and close again. Blood dripped down the side of Olive’s forehead, not slowing much since her fall. But this Regulator – what was his name again? Sol? He wiped away the worst of it with some gauze. Cleaning the wound with something that smelled strongly alcoholic, blood continued to gush from the cut, and finally he pressed the gauze against it, in an effort to stop the bleeding. Digging in the med kit for more supplies, he came up empty-handed.

  Eyes catching on her purple pantsuit, Evalene had an idea. “I can help if you remove my restraints?”

  Watchman Sol’s eyebrow twitched in skepticism at the idea, the only sign that he’d heard her. But after a moment, he stood. Approaching her, he spun his finger in a circular motion, indicating she should turn around. She did, uneasily. The moment her hands were freed, she yanked them in front of her, even as she whirled to face him.

  He simply raised his eyebrows at her and crossed his arms, waiting.

  Evalene hesitated, not wanting to take her eyes off him any more than he did her. But a moan from Olive reminded her they didn’t have time to waste. She stepped around the Regulator toward her friend, coming to stand on the opposite side of Olive, hunkering down next to the girl.

  Testing the bottom of her pant leg, Evalene exhaled sadly, and ripped. The fabric tore easily. Pulling slowly, carefully, she ripped off a long, winding strip from the bottom of the pant leg, circling a few times and stopping halfway before she reached her knee. She offered it to the Regulator.

  Standing on the other side of Olive, he reached across and took it. Kneeling as well, he set the fabric on the floor beside him, removing the gauze he’d pressed into Olive’s wound, which was now soaked with blood. Seconds after he lifted it, blood pooled underneath. Evalene frowned.

  He picked up the fabric and placed it on Olive’s forehead carefully. Lifting her head with gentle hands, he wrapped the cloth around the back of her head, and back up to where her golden hair was stained red near her forehead. One full wrap around Olive’s head, pulled tight, was immediately followed by a second wrap, covering the first. On the fourth wrap around Olive’s head, he ran out of fabric right by Olive’s ear, and lowered her head back to the floor.

  Evalene watched Sol fish a safety pin out of the med-kit, securing the makeshift head wrap. A sigh of relief escaped Evalene’s lips. But then he shifted to pick Olive up, this time her whole body instead of only her head.

  Evalene protested. “Don’t move her! Leave her here with me!”

  But he wasn’t separating them. He laid Olive on the hard cot against the back wall. The thin mattress was a slight improvement from the concrete floor.

  His face, so expressionless before, now showed a hint of concern in his frown as he stared at the unconscious girl. “I’ll get you some water.”

  He locked the cell door behind him and disappeared down a hallway.

  “Olive,” Evalene whispered, coming over to the cot, kneeling on the cold floor and leaning close to her friend’s ear. “Olive, I need you to wake up. Please. I can’t do this on my own...”

  Stirring, Olive’s eyelids trembled, but didn’t open. Head tilting to the side, she could’ve easily been napping if not for the tiny spot of blood leaking through the purple fabric wrapped around her head, growing larger. Evalene slumped on the floor next to the cot, leaning against the wall.

  They were going to die here.

  She regretted so much. “I’m sorry, Olive,” she whispered, staring at the bars of their cell. “This is my fault. If I had come with Jeremiah, you would still be home right now with Mae.”

  Olive’s hand touched her shoulder, startling her. Evalene hadn’t thought she was awake. “It’s okay,” Olive said. She was so pale. “I wanted to come. And you don’t have to be afraid. God will take care of us.” She smiled, but her hand dropped back to the cot weakly.

  The girl with the bloody head, lying on a prison cot, recently captured and beaten, and quite aware they might soon die, smiled peacefully. How was it that she could have more peace in a moment such as this than Evalene had known in her entire lifetime?

  Evalene didn’t have a chance to ask.

  Sol’s boots echoed loudly in the hallway as he re-entered the large room. He held a small cup. Striding towards their cell, he handed the cup to Evalene, and she immediately brought it to Olive, setting it on the floor to help her friend sit up.

  But pain scrunched up Olive’s face before she was even fully upright, and she sank back down. “I’m feeling better,” she whispered, refusing to sit up, her eyes closing.

  “You should drink something,” Evalene argued. She lightly shook her arm, trying to wake her, but Olive didn’t answer. Evalene didn’t know what to do. God, she found herself praying through her fear, if you’re really the God that Olive believes in... can you save us?

  “You should keep her awake in case she has a concussion,” a voice said behind her.

  Evalene jumped.

  Watchman Sol still stood where he’d handed her the cup. She’d forgotten he was there. But his gaze was on Olive, forehead furrowed. “I mean it,” he said. “You can’t leave someone with a concussion, they need to be kept awake, monitored...”

  “What do you care?” Evalene heard the defiance in her voice. It surprised her.

  Arms crossed casually, he continued to stare at Olive the way someone might look at a zoo animal. “How did she get to the age she is without being Numbered?”

  Evalene blinked in surprise. Vaguely a memory of hands on her neck when they were first captured came back to her. It made sense they’d checked Olive’s neck too. Bare skin. Evalene smiled. It felt like a small triumph.

  “She
’s not from Eden.” She crossed her arms as well, although it didn’t hold as much punch while sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, with one pant leg ripped half off.

  She knew all the questions flooding his mind. They’d been her own. How did they know their Number? What to do in life? Who they were? Their value? Their role in society?

  “Numbers aren’t real,” she told him, standing, quoting Jeremiah to him as if she believed the words herself. “They’re not who we are.” Did she actually believe that? She realized she was starting to.

  He surprised her by nodding thoughtfully. “You hear whispers,” he said, still staring at Olive, “families who bribe the priests for higher Numbers. Or those who fall out of favor with the Number One, and their children just ‘happen’ to receive unusually low Numbers.” This was the most he’d spoken since they’d met. Evalene’s eyebrows rose. She hadn’t heard those rumors, but his last example made her wonder if she wasn’t the only one?

  Olive twitched and stirred. Both Evalene and the Regulator paused their conversation to examine the girl.

  “You really should wake her,” he said again.

  “Mmm, I’m up, I’m up,” Olive mumbled, eyes closed.

  “No you’re not,” Evalene argued.

  It worked.

  “Yes I am!” Olive’s eyes flew open. She struggled to sit up and Evalene helped her. Evalene didn’t know anything about concussions, and against her better judgement, she found herself trusting the Regulator’s recommendations. Holding the cup for Olive, she helped her friend drink. Her throat was parched, but she ignored it, letting Olive have the entire glass.

  Sitting on the cot next to Olive, she held her friend upright with an arm around her shoulders, wincing at the bloody head-wrap. Olive reached a hand up to touch it at Evalene’s expression. When she pulled her hand down and saw the blood on her fingertips, she paled visibly. “Oh... That’s not good...”

  Sol’s keys jangled as he unlocked the door once more. He stepped into the cell, holding out his hands, “Give me the cup. You need to drink more water.”