27: The Lost

Chapter One

It was a quiet sunset. The only sounds that can be heard were the military trucks we were riding in. Everyone in the truck had a rifle in their hands. There was tension in the air, everybody was on guard. The others on our truck, though, tried to lift up the mood and made lively talks with hushed tones.

No one wanted to be too loud.

I clutched at my rifle, focusing only on it and the sounds outside the engine of the trucks and the tracks they made. Apprehension filled my being as I my hold on the rifle become tighter. I was a tightly wounded spring ready to jump at any moment.

Something in the air made me want to squirm in my seat. Everybody was on edge but we tried to ignore it. Evening was close; the sun clung onto the sky tightly as if not wanting to sink into the earth. A shiver goes through my body, my body tense and holding onto the rifle without fail, ready to shoot at the moment's notice.

There's something about this evening's air, I can almost taste it.

"Nah, why so wound up, Nijuu-nana-chan?" said a cheery voice beside my ear. I almost dropped my rifle in surprise. Everyone glanced at us with slight amusement and tense but cheerful smiles.

I glare hotly at the man, no boy, beside me.

Nijuu-nana, twenty-seven in Japanese, the world is a changed place. Once, languages of every nationality, of every nation, of every people flowed freely out of people's mouths. Now, there aren't enough people left in the world to speak those languages. Histories of whole nations, cultures, traditions and their people, wiped out. The few that survive never forgets it, preserved in archives both manual and electronic.

I felt my glare gentle somewhat and scan the truck of nervous glances and hushed conversations. An open truck bed with no protection against the elements, it was the best way to shoot out what could be hiding behind the trees.

Nijuu-nana, Twenty Seven... 27.

Twenty seven, my Identification Code is 1215-972-729. 1215 is 27 times 9 times 5. 972 is 27, 9 and 4. 729 is 27, 9 and 3. They call me 27 because I hate my name, because no one will ever have the right to call me by my name... not since that day.

I felt irritation rise up at a foolish grin directed at me that never wavered. "Why do you always do this to me? Can't you see I'm trying to concentrate and you always startle me at the absolute worst time?" I whisper angrily to him.

The boy next to me is Hikaru Izagami, 16. He had fairly common Asian complexion and features. I've known him since we were kids, living in a city like ours, almost everyone knew everyone else. There is no secret in our city. Hikaru and I studied the same lessons up until a point and went through the same training. He wasn't special and, I firmly believe, neither am I.

To me, Hikaru is a pain in the ass.

He always sits next to me in every caravan out of the city. Without fail every time we would be on the same truck, and he'd stuck by my side like a parasite. Unlike when we're not on the same duty roster the others say that he sits alone as much as possible.

I don't understand, why me?

"It's cuz you're always so tense Nijuu-nana-chan." He says happily still with that annoyingly foolish grin.

I felt my eyebrow tick in annoyance. I grip at my rifle with some intensity while the others in the truck would chuckle quietly in agreement. I blew on my bangs as it had fallen on my forehead. Yes, while it's true I'm always tense but do they have to make fun of it now?

Now, while we're still outside the protection of the City?

I'm always tense whenever I'm out of the city, outside the gates of the city, whereas while inside it's slightly safer. I believe, no place is ever safe anymore. That day proved it.