NUMB3RS

Chapter 1

THE GUN gleamed in the ghastly light cast from the glass below it. I lay on a glowing circle of pure white, my cheek pressed roughly into the ground. Gloved and shadowy hands threatened to pummel me, or crush me, whichever came first I didn't want to find out. Two was shouting somewhere, but I couldn't see him, and I couldn't shift my position under the mass of bodies around me. Numbers filled my vision, the only light piecing the near smothering darkness now surrounding me. Ones, so similar to my own.

I unconsciously looked towards my wrist, where my number seemed to flash like a beacon. A silver flash behind it caught my eye. A dull silver handgun lay on the smooth plexiglass beside me. I reached out desperately, the grip brushing the tip of my fingers. I let my hand drop, but tensed my muscles, the unforgiving force of the mob still at my back. I gathered my strength and heaved upward. I stretched, my body feeling like it was being squashed flat.

I grabbed the gun.

I felt the cold handle settle into my palm. I quickly turned and held it towards the mob furiously, but they ignored the danger. I frowned. I was breathing heavily. I felt a sharp sting on my wrist in reply. A thought nagged at my mind. As more people joined the fray the room seemed to spin. I held out the gun, but hesitated.

'Be true to yourself.' But I don't know who I am... I suddenly turned the gun, staring down the barrel. I felt a sharper pain in my wrist as my number flashed warningly. I closed my eyes and held the gun up to my temple...

...And pulled the trigger.

Six months earlier

A gray haze hung around my thoughts. Through the fog I heard a voice. I flinched away from it, but the noise followed me. I grudgingly listened to the whispered conversation. "This is the smallest generation we've ever had! And we're already spred thin..."

Another hushed voice, this one calm, though it bore a threatening undertone. "What are you asking Stenson? We must keep up protocol."

"But the population count!"

"You're not afraid of a simple number are you?" The voices faded and were drowned out by a growing roar. A bright light traced patterns on the back of my eyelids. I slowly opened one eye.

I was laying against a cool, glassy surface. For a second the light coming from beneath me blinded me, but eventually things started to focus. I realized the space I was in was circular. A large crowd had gathered at the edge of the lit circle as if an invisible force field kept them away. I stared at them apprehensively as I attempted, successfully, to sit up. My joints ached.

I turned my neck to loosen it, and realized I was alone on a platform. I saw the rest of the crowd was staring at me from the far side as well, with the same intent look that made me feel uncomfortable. I suddenly realized that I was only wearing a thin white dress. I hugged my arms around myself, cold. There was an electric hum in the air. The onlookers murmured quietly to each other though I couldn't make out any words.

I was very aware that this seemed to be the only source of light in the space as I looked around. I felt very alone on the massive circle. I forced myself to look away from the crowd and at my surroundings. It was night time, and people lurked in the gloom. Indistinct shadows that might have been buildings stood behind them, but when I strained my eyes I still couldn't make out any details. A gentle breeze ruffled my hair as I went back to watching the crowd warily. I shivered. I tried to speak, to yell, whatever to at least get the crowd to saw something, but my voice croaked in my dry throat. A disturbance in the mass of people drew my attention.

A boy about my age was pushing through the group of people. The crowd parted warily for him as he gave them a blinding smile. His dark brown hair fell across his face partially hiding his brilliant green eyes. He was wearing a bright white jumpsuit that appeared to be a uniform of some sort. "Sorry about the cold welcome, miss..." he looked down at my wrist. "...One." He raised his eyes up to include the rest of the people on the sidelines something difficult to read in his expression.

I looked curiously down at my wrist to see what he'd been looking at. I gasped at the stark "One" printed there. It glowed faintly in the gloom. I scratched at it as if it would come off, or maybe just to check if it was was real.

The boy grabbed my wrist to stop me and whispered, "It's difficult at first, but you'll get used to it." He spoke a bit louder, his smile widening if it was possible. "I'm Mark."

"I do so hope you'll enjoy your stay here."