Evalene's Number
Page 28
Olive smiled at him gratefully. He looked away, taking the cup, and disappeared down the hallway again.
He left the cell door wide open.
What was he doing?
Evalene wondered if Olive could make it if she asked her to run. Olive swayed a little to the left, blinking away dizziness. No. They wouldn’t even make it to the door.
When Watchman Sol reappeared though, Evalene lifted her chin. “We could have escaped.”
His smile was so small and quick she almost didn’t catch it. He shook his head as he handed her the cup of water. “You wouldn’t get far. There’s fighting out front and guards out back.” He shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning against the cell doorway. “Believe it or not, this is the safest place for you two right now.”
Olive smiled up at Sol. “Well then, I’m glad you caught us!”
Evalene frowned at Olive. “We would have been just fine on our own. And the safest place is with our friends, not locked up, waiting to be hanged.
Sol grunted.
He fiddled with the keys on his belt. Stared at a spot on the wall. Then, as if making a decision, he finally said, “Maybe you won’t be here much longer.” That was cryptic. Was he offering to help them escape?
Olive brightened and smiled, immediately reading into his words. “You’re going to let us go?”
Evalene couldn’t believe it when Sol nodded, still scowling. She scowled back, not trusting him. She wasn’t sure if his permanently dark expression was directed at them or the situation.
“God sent an angel to help us even here.” Olive’s smile was huge as she got to say her favorite words. “I told you.”
Evalene didn’t answer. She stared at Sol, unconvinced. He looked uncomfortable at being called an angel.
“Oh! I know,” Olive turned to Sol. “You should come with us!” She clapped her hands at the idea, but weakly, her energy fading quickly. “If you’re changing sides, there’s no point in staying.”
Sol started shaking his head before she’d even finished. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can!” Olive argued. “If you change your mind later, you can just come back and say we took you hostage.” She grinned at the idea.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, staring at her in thought.
Olive drew a deep breath to argue further. Evalene knew from experience that her friend could hound him all day. Evalene held out a hand, interrupting. “Whatever you do is fine. Just let us go.”
Sol nodded, swinging the cell door further open, leading them out. “Where are you headed? I can at least point you in the right direction.”
“The city news station,” Olive said, leaning forward to stand.
“Why should we trust you?” Evalene said at the same time, as she helped Olive up. She flung her free hand out in frustration. “Olive! This could be a trap! He could send Regulators!”
They entered the main room and stopped outside the cell in front of Sol.
“He won’t,” Olive said confidently.
“I won’t,” Sol said at the same time.
Olive swayed a little.
“Here,” Sol pulled out the closest chair. “Rest. You’re not ready to travel yet.”
Wanting to argue, Evalene glanced once at Olive’s pale face and the thin line of sweat on her lip, and held her tongue.
Once Olive was seated, Evalene assessed the rest of the room, wishing they had more options. She could try to roll Olive out on a chair with wheels when Watchman Sol wasn’t looking. But the city roads were filled with potholes. Dragging Olive might not be physically possible for more than a few blocks.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the closest desk, eyeing Sol. The young Regulator made her nervous. She couldn’t read him.
He met her gaze without a word. Neither of them looked away. It could have gone on indefinitely if Olive hadn’t broken the silence.
“Would you be terribly offended if I asked who was winning the fight?” Olive bit her lip as she asked Sol.
He shook his head, expressionless, and spoke as if giving a report. “Shortly before dawn, we received a call to the local news station. We sent men to respond, and more men when they needed backup. That left us shorthanded when they attacked here around six a.m. before our day shift started. They began to retreat about an hour ago, but we’re not sure why. We don’t have enough men to crush the rebellion entirely until reinforcements arrive from other cities.”
“Has anyone else been captured?” Evalene asked.
Sol gestured to the empty room. “Our orders are shoot to kill.”
Olive gasped.
“Why didn’t you shoot us then?” Evalene demanded.
He ignored the question, looking at the door where Control Leader Grausum had vanished. “The city news station isn’t too far from here. I could drive you.”
“Oh yes! Please!” Olive accepted his offer immediately.
Evalene squinted at him. Had he stopped the Control Leader from shooting? Someone had yelled. It might’ve been him. That would explain why the leader had mentioned a punishment. But she was still skeptical. “What’s in it for you?”
“Evie!” Olive chastised, tsking at the question, waving her hand as if to effectively wave the words away. “Sol is a gentleman. I can tell. Why are you so quick to judge him based on his Number? What if he doesn’t want his Number any more than you want yours?”
Now it was Evalene’s turn to look away.
Sol lifted his chin. “I never had a choice before.” He shut his mouth, pressing his lips together tightly. Evalene thought that was all he was going to say. She turned to Olive and took a breath to ask if her friend could walk instead, when Sol surprised her by adding, “I’d like to come.”
“You’re willing to risk a hanging?” Evalene frowned at him in suspicion. “If the revolution doesn’t succeed?”
“Yes.” Sol shrugged, giving them no further insight into his decision. It didn’t feel like enough. But he clearly wasn’t going to share any further. His gaze met Evalene’s as she considered him. After another long pause, he gestured to the blood-soaked fabric around Olive’s head. “Whatever you do, decide quickly. She needs a doctor.”
Olive touched her forehead, wincing in agreement.
“‘She’ has a name,” Evalene shot back. But she nodded. The sooner they left this prison, the better. “You can drive us.”
“It’s Olive.” Her blonde friend beamed up at Sol. She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.” And he shook it, humoring her.
“You too.” He strode towards the door they’d come in. “This way.”
Evalene helped Olive out of the chair, and they slowly followed. At the exit, Sol stood waiting for them. “Stay here.” His jaw was set in determination, serious gaze unwavering. “I’ll pull the car around and pick you up.” A hint of worry as his gaze touched Olive again briefly was the only change in his expression. He hesitated, hand on the doorknob. “There’s fighting breaking out all over the city. It will be dangerous...”
“We’ll be okay,” Evalene told him, unflinching. He didn’t say another word. Opening the door, he vanished from sight as it swung shut behind him.
“Olive, you can’t tell him anything else,” Evalene whispered to her friend while they were waiting. “We don’t know if he’s really going to help us.” She refused to be fooled again. “He could be manipulating us for information, or maybe when we reach everyone else, he’ll put a gun to our heads and try to use us as hostages. We can’t trust him.”
Olive was blinking as if the light hurt her eyes. She turned her head slightly towards Evalene, then winced at the movement, putting a hand up to the bandages on her head. “I understand,” Olive’s voice was weak, un-Olive-like, “but we can’t stay here either.”
Evalene didn’t have an argument for that. If they stayed, they could be killed within the hour. Olive added, “He’s our only option.” And Evalene knew it was true.
35
Injured
“We’re still holding the station, Captain.” Jeremiah’s eyes found Larimar. The man was standing over him with two others. Why was he lying down? Jeremiah moved to sit up. Immediately the men forced him back down. White spots danced in Jeremiah’s vision. He didn’t have any strength to fight, and let them ease him back down. The pain came rushing back in its full intensity. He groaned.
“Just relax,” Larimar’s voice said again. The screech of metal on the floor sounded, and Jeremiah carefully opened his eyes to find Larimar pulling up a chair. The man sat, gesturing to the other two men to leave.
One of them frowned as he left. “Don’t let him get up. He’ll pull out all my stitches.” Jeremiah recognized the healer from earlier.
But the moment the door closed, he ignored the command. “Help me up.”
Larimar started to shake his head, but Jeremiah’s glare stopped him. “At least rest a minute before you do,” Larimar suggested.
Still frowning, Jeremiah allowed it. He couldn’t get up without help anyway. “Report.”
“The Regs were minutes from taking the station,” Larimar obeyed, leaning forward, “maybe less. We held the front door, and blew up the back door. If we didn’t have the vests and the barricade, we would’ve lost for sure. But each time they climbed on top of a car, they made a perfect target. We lost a lot of men. Too many. They figured out the weak spots in Hofyn’s armor.” When body shots didn’t work, the Regs would’ve aimed elsewhere. It made sense.
Larimar leaned back in exhaustion. “Your plan worked. We stalled while the rest of our company ran the last quarter of the way here, and Flint’s company stole some vehicles to make it here too. They arrived just in time.” Larimar stopped there. But he was frowning, and wouldn’t meet Jeremiah’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Jeremiah demanded, struggling to sit up on his own. This time Larimar helped him. Once in a sitting position, Jeremiah rested, breathing hard. The healer had been right about his stitches breaking open. “Tell me.”
“We had the advantage for a bit. Took most of the street once the other men got here. And for a little while, we were picking off Regulator reinforcements before they realized we weren’t on the same side.” Jeremiah found himself more grateful than ever that Adri had thought to have the men wear black like the Regulator uniforms. “But we’re losing ground again. It’s a matter of time before their reinforcements get here. We don’t have enough men. We’re going to lose the station.”
“Where’s Luc?” Jeremiah ignored the prediction.
“No word yet,” Larimar shook his head. “We spoke on the radio earlier. Told them not to give away their position. But it might be too late for that, if the Regs guessed they were in the harbor.”
That worried Jeremiah. How much time had passed? His eyes found the clock on the wall. It was already 7 a.m. They were behind on their plan. “Tell Flint to leave the Regs HQ entirely. We need them here. As soon as possible. And we need to broadcast immediately. It might be our only chance.” Jeremiah didn’t expect Luc until noon. That meant Flint’s men were their only hope. Them, and the people of Eden if he could convince them in time.
Larimar helped him stand. Jeremiah leaned heavily on the man as he hobbled out of the small room and down a short hallway. Irregular shots fired outside, but he ignored them. The broadcast was his mission now. He had to let the men outside take care of the Regulators.
They entered the large newsroom, filled with desks in rows, rolling chairs, and computer screens cluttering every surface. Though Eden was still lagging behind the rest of the world in their technology, the equipment in this room was highly advanced compared to the rest of Eden, excluding the Number One’s home.
A small group of Jeremiah’s men stood along the wall, ready to do whatever was needed. Three station employees were tied up, sitting on the floor against the wall. The man who’d shot him was one of them, and he started shaking again when he saw Jeremiah.
“Bring them,” Jeremiah waved towards the captives, ignoring the sting of his bandaged fingers. He was dizzy. But he hid it from them. “Hurry. There’s not much time.”
They made their way through the large room, past the desks and computers into the adjoining smaller room, where the filming was done. “Set up the emergency broadcast,” Jeremiah commanded the news station employees as they were untied. His request would turn on every television in the country that wasn’t already on, airing the broadcast on every single channel.
Surrounded by Jeremiah’s men, the three employees thankfully didn’t argue. Watching closely, Jeremiah made sure they used the special frequency the Number One had set up that couldn’t be interrupted. He’d done his homework on that portion.
“No,” Jeremiah said as they made a valiant effort to use the wrong channel, thinking he wouldn’t catch them. “Not that one.” He pointed out to Larimar and the other men in the room which frequency they needed to use, making it clear to the station employees at the same time that he wouldn’t be fooled. Hopefully this would prevent further defiance. They didn’t know it, but this was the extent of his knowledge.
Turning, Jeremiah stepped up on the short stage in front of the green screen. The stage had a long, curved desk for typical nightly news, with two chairs for the anchors. “Radio Adri’s company at the Number One’s home,” he said, sinking into the nearest chair in relief. “Let them know to be ready to go on air.”
Every part of him hurt as if he was being repeatedly stabbed, especially the wound on his back, which felt wet and likely had opened just like the healer said it would. But he kept a calm front. None of that mattered right now.
He nodded for the broadcast to begin.
Shooting began again in earnest outside just as the cameramen started their countdown. Three, two, one. On air. Screams in the background. “Citizens of Eden,” Jeremiah began quietly, “my name is Jeremiah Bloom. My parents were Eben and Tarsa Bloom. You might recognize their names from nearly ten years ago, when we all lived through the Bloom Rebellion.” The dozen or so people in the room gasped, including the cameramen.
Jeremiah ignored them and continued. “They died fighting for you. But their dream lives on in me. A dream of a world without Numbers. Though the Number One has kept it hidden, there have been frequent uprisings throughout Eden since that day. People just like you have recognized the injustice. I’m proud to say that not just hundreds, but thousands of people have stood up to the Number System in some form. But we have never been unified enough to coordinate a full-scale attack. Until now.”
He held out a hand for the radio. Larimar stepped up to place it in his hand. Jeremiah pressed the button and spoke into the device. “Status at the Number One’s home, confirm.”
Static crackled as the men on the other side responded, “We’ve taken the Number One’s home. He’s confined to his living quarters. His guards are in custody. We wait for your command.”
The crackling stopped as the radio conversation ended. Jeremiah set it on the desk.
Speaking once again to the camera, he continued. “The Number One does not deserve to lead this country. We are not going to let him.” Some of his men shouted their agreement in the background, unable to help themselves. Sporadic shooting continued outside, often followed by cries of pain. It was now or never.
“We need your help,” Jeremiah spoke through the pain, pleading with the camera. He would beg them if he had to. “Please, if you have ever felt that our country needed to change, now is the time.” Jeremiah felt dizzy. He wanted to speak further, to tell them more about riots and insurrections the Number One had buried. But if he lost consciousness on live television, it would be a huge blow to the citizen’s trust. He couldn’t r
isk it.
Instead he wrapped up quickly with a simple call to action, “Come to the news station, to the Number One’s home, or to the Regulator Headquarters. We will bring change by standing together. Join us. Fight with us! With your help, we can win!” He nodded to Larimar, signaling his talk was finished.
As Larimar stepped on stage to begin the next portion, Jeremiah forced himself to stand tall, to stride off stage and off camera as if in full health.
He stumbled at one point, but thankfully, the monitors showed he was off the screen by then. He lurched over to sit in a chair along the wall.
“Join us at the news station, at the Number One’s home, or at the Regs’ Headquarters,” Larimar repeated to the camera now, making sure the locations were clear. Urgency underlined his tone, but he didn’t give away just how badly they needed help. The Regulators could watch this channel as easily as anyone else.
Jeremiah gestured to one of the soldiers in the room that he recognized. “Dross, it’s time for testimonies. Can you gather a few people to get that started?” The man nodded, quietly exiting the room. Had Larimar said the rest of their company had arrived? He wasn’t sure. They’d brought a few men and women with them for this exact purpose, but most had been in the group walking here, and he wasn’t sure what had happened to them. Thanks to his injuries, he didn’t have a clear grasp of where anyone was or how the fight was going outside.
But they needed to use the broadcast while they had it. Anyone would do at this point. Larimar was still speaking when Dross returned with a small line-up of two men and one woman. “Only three?” Jeremiah said softly, so they wouldn’t overhear.
“We couldn’t spare anymore,” Dross replied in a whisper as well. “The barricade is the only thing between us and the Regs right now, and we’re running low on ammo.” He glanced towards the station employees, operating the cameras willingly now, and at the three soldiers preparing to speak on camera. “I don’t know if we’ll make it past these three. But if we do, we can swap them out for others.”