Days Are Numbered

30. The Numbers

Dhakirah entered the room, the searing heat of the sun clinging to his skin like an unwelcome embrace. His eyes fell on Noah, surrounded by scattered piles of paper covered in handwritten scrawls, his gaze locked in an intense study of the pages. The air seemed charged with the unspoken weight of Noah's relentless pursuit for answers. Noah's obsession with the papers had not gone unnoticed by the other boys. Whispers spread like wildfire through the shelter, weaving tales of Noah's descent into madness. Some speculated about evil spirits haunting his every move, while others, like Browne, watched him with a mixture of fear and apprehension. Noah remained stoic to the murmurs that swirled around him, his focus unyielding, his determination unwavering. During the night, he poured over the pages, his eyes light with a fervent search for the truth that eluded him.

Dhakirah watched Noah, a silent witness to the turmoil that consumed his friend's soul. He longed to offer help to ease the burden that weighed heavily on Noah's shoulders, but he knew that some battles must be fought alone.

With a heavy heart, Dhakirah lingered in the doorway, his gaze tracing Noah's determined figure. Then he sighed, deciding to put an end to it, he approached Noah who flinched at the sound of his foot before regaining his composure. Dhakirah could see the exhaustion etched into every line of his friend's face. "You need to rest, Noah. Let it go," Dhakirah urged gently, his voice a soothing counterpoint to the chaos swirling around them.

For the first time since his return, Noah's voice emerged, a whisper in the room. "We're in danger," he confessed, his words weighted with certainity.

Dhakirah's brow furrowed in concern. "What do you mean?" he inquired, his voice hushed with apprehension.

Noah's gaze pierced through the veil of uncertainty, his eyes reflecting a depth of fear. "The signal," he stated simply, his voice trembling with urgency.

Confusion clouded Dhakirah's features. "What about the signal?" he pressed, his heart quickening with a sense of anticipation.

Noah's focus shifted, his demeanor becoming haunted as memories threatened to engulf him. "Give me the numbers," he implored, his voice raw with desperation.

Dhakirah's brow furrowed with concern as he confronted Noah, "What numbers?" He asked. Noah's distress was palpable, his lips bitten in anguish as he averted his gaze. Despite the tension, Dhakirah reached out, his touch eliciting a flinch from Noah, yet he persisted, gently pushing aside Noah's hair to reveal the barcode etched into his skin.

Dhakirah's pressed his lips in a thin line as realization dawned upon him. The barcode, hidden beneath Noah's hairline, spoke volumes. It was a mark that claimed the boy to DREAD, and a threat to his very identity.

"Why?" Dhakirah's voice trembled slightly. He had warned Noah against losing himself to the machinations of their captors, yet here they stood, confronted by the harsh reality of Noah's entrapment.

Dhakirah's voice softened to a whisper, heavy with concern and a tinge of sorrow, "I told you not to lose your conscience, don't let them use you, like me," he murmured, the words heavy with the weight of his own past experiences.

But Noah's desperation brought no hesitation as he pleaded, "Give it to me," his voice tinged with urgency and a hint of desperation.

Dhakirah's resolve remained unyielding, "Forget it," he urged, his tone firm yet tinged with sadness, "you're in no shape to prove your worth. Stay low, and he'll get rid of the code, or I will."

With a heavy heart, Dhakirah turned away, leaving Noah to grapple with his words. Noah hastily gathered the scattered sheets, stuffing them into the bag with trembling hands.