Chapter 9
Sails of Silver
"And the winner in the 65 and older category of the 10th annual Village Arts Show is…" Number 2 opened an envelope one of the judges, a female known as Number 19, handed him. "Number 78, for her magnificent tapestry!"
Number 78, an elderly woman with greying hair, smiled broadly as she walked up to the podium in the Town Hall and accepted the prize Number 2 handed to her.
"And the moment we've all been waiting for," Number 2 announced, digging into the envelope once more. "The winner of the 2,000 work units Grand Prize, for his magnificent wood carving…Number 12!"
Number 12 grinned as broadly as Number 78 as the other Villagers, Number 49 among them, clapped loudly. He walked up to accept his prize, and got an idea.
"I do not really deserve this," he said as everyone clamored for a speech. "It really goes to Number 78. So, I would like to present these 2,000 work units to her in order to purchase her tapestry of Number 2, so that I might hang it in my own home for my own enjoyment."
The funny thing was, everyone approved.
---
He walked down to the Beach that night to assemble the boat for sailing within the next few days. As he was finishing, something in the water caught his eye: a person, washed up on the beach just barely within the tidal range.
He went over to the body; from the way it was moving limply with the rise and fall of the water, he was sure it was just a body now, and nothing else. Patting it down, he discovered a wallet soaked through with lake-water.
Number 12 opened the wallet he'd accidentally discovered, and saw a photograph of a young woman's face he remembered quite clearly. Turning the body over, he could vaguely recognize the man's face. "Chet?" he said in disbelief.
But perhaps he was wrong. After all, it had been a long time since he'd seen Iola's brother, and faces changed over the years. Someone totally unrelated could have Iola's picture, and Chet Morton's face.
"Of all people, you are the least I would suspect," a voice said from behind Number 12, quite suddenly.
He'd forgotten that there was a small network of caves in those rocks behind him; Number 6 had mentioned them when the two men had met that first day. Turning, he saw a man standing there at the base of the rocks; and, squinting, he could recognize that man after a fashion. "Biff Hooper?" His childhood friend inclined his head slightly. "What did you do to get here?"
The other man shrugged. "I was working with Phil one day, and the next, I was here. They use some sort of gas that leaves no side effect and makes it seem as though nothing has changed since you were gassed, save the fact that you've fallen down. One moment you're at your real home; the next, here, with no idea of how or why you are here."
Number 12 nodded. "I know. How long have you been here?"
"Not too long after yourself," was the reply. Biff Hooper glanced up at the darkening clouds, then at one that was low-lying and the perfect image of Rover. "There are others here that we know; that we might remember from when we were kids." He sighed. "Those days were so carefree then. Innocent, working on mysteries that had nothing to do with international security…I wish we were back Then again."
Number 12 sighed as well. "You're not the only one," he said dryly.
---
Number 49 chewed her bottom lip as she watched the screen in the Camera Chambers; Number 14 and his companion, a female known as Number 45 (who worked at the hospital), were breathing down her neck and making her quite uncomfortable.
"This had better work," Number 14, a balding man smelling of Earl Grey and with a clipped British accent said for the fiftieth time. "Number 2 will be most displeased if it does not."
"Aye," Number 45 said, her accent saying she was from the western part of New York State and that she'd studied Spanish and Welsh for several years, nearly to the point where the foreign pronunciations corrupted her New York ones, thus making her sound French in some views. Not to mention the fact that she'd also lived in England, Number 49's own native country, for nearly as many years as Number 49 had been impersonating others. "The new Number 2 will have our hides for sure."