On the big screen Number Two watched as the ambulance cut across in front of Number Six and his charge blocking the way. The pair stopped, prepared to meet whatever trouble was laid in store for them. Not a cooperative impulse in either of them.
Two white clad orderlies stepped out followed by two more men in white hard hats, each carrying a billy club. Enough to handle Number Six, perhaps too quickly. Six faced them angrily, putting himself between them and the girl.
"So very valiant, our Number Six." Two mussed. "A man of antiquity, better suited for more chivalrous times."
The Supervisor gave a tight smile. The activity on the screen held only a passing interest for him. The business of subduing Number Six was as common an occurrence as the trimming of the hedge.
The orderlies, familiar with Number Six's obstinance, would attempt to reason for only a short time, then they would insist. From the posture Number Six had assumed the outcome was going to be very violent indeed. The girl looked ever so vulnerable with her protector surrounded. He shuttered inwardly with anticipation. If the struggle could be prolonged it might prove a sufficient distraction.
A tall man in white moved to the front of the group marking himself as someone of import and said in an authoritative tone. "Come with us, Number Six."
This earned the usual insolence.
"Why?"
The man answered judiciously. "You're wanted at hospital."
"By who's order?"
"Number Two's of course." The man in white replied, a congenial professional spoiling for a fight. "Come along now, mustn't keep everyone waiting."
"They can wait." Six looked into a camera, "And Number Two can mind his own business."
Number Two met those hard, cold eyes. They challenged him. Just now, with four men to keep Number Six suitably disposed, he rather liked the odds.
"Looks as if he intends to make a scene." He said in mock disappointment. "Oh well, I best see the girl home. Have my car brought round,"
.
.
.
.
.
.
No blows had yet been exchanged when Number Two arrived, but the very air was charged with the promise of a spectacular storm.
Number Seven stood a little apart from the group, watching warily, preparing to mount an assault from the perimeter. She would not willingly leave Number Six to his fate. Number Two moved close to her in a protective manner, causing her to shift away and instantly activating Six's territorial impulses.
"What do you want?" The man demanded.
"As you're indisposed."Two smiled. "I've come to see Number Seven home."
Violent suspicion showed in Number Six's eyes. "What's it all about?"
He was concerned for the girl of course. The hero's instinct to defend the weak was so powerful.
"You've not been yourself of late. Some unusual behavior. Can't be too careful." Two said lightly brushing all concerns aside. "Just routine. I assure you."
"Tell them to go away."
The men were pushing in closer, looking for an opening.
"Why do you resist, Number Six?" Two took another step towards the girl, she tried to sidestep him and his hand shot out catching her arm. "You know we will win. We always do."
He half expected the man to charge at him in a futile attempt to rest the girl from his clutches. Such fury must be difficult to contain.
"She is not to be harmed." Six said with measured restraint. "I've made a deal."
"Last night in my office you were so arrogant." he pulled the girl closer to himself, enjoying the intensified rage this simple act elicited. "Not so full of yourself now, old man, that the shoe is on the other foot."
Number Six's caged anger was delightful. The crouching bodies, ready to spring at the slightest provocation, was the only thing that kept the man from engaging in the most brutal acts of violence against his person. The thrill of mortal danger so close at hand mingled with his own savage appetites. And Number Seven's fitful struggling excited them all the more.
"Let her go!" came the predictable demand.
He ignored the man, turning his attention to the ridged girl in his grasp. She strained away from him as if to avoid contact with a hot stove. He drew her nearer still, until he could hear the hiss of her breath. Her eyes were turned in helpless supplication to Number Six.
"It's alright, my dear." he assured her kindly. Her head snapped his way and he was met with fear. "no harm will come to your friend." He caught the eye of the orderly who had spoken to Six, "Be gentle with him. He's having his physical, you know. Mustn't bruise him too badly."
With this he tied their hands. Instantly the mood shifted. The eager, brutal faces became uncertain. They were accustom to handling Six as roughly as need be. Now they would be forced to hold back the worst of their punishment, giving Six a clear edge. That ought to prolong things nicely.
"Run along to your appointment, Number Six," he said with the air of one opening a ceremony. "I'll look after our dear Number Seven."
The men, hamstrung as they were, obediently closed in on their unwilling charge. Number Six met them in a violent rush. With his fury unchecked he smashed the nearest man full in the face. There was a sickening sound of impact and a gurgling yell. With equal violence the girl tried to wrench free.
Number Two turned her abruptly away from the fray. "Never mind that," he said, "walk with me."
She fought, desperate to remain with Number Six. With an iron grip he propelled her forward, in the direction of her cottage. He wanted to be away while attention was focused on the spectacle. Behind them came the sound of heavy blows and a body fell. Under that kind of abuse the men would be hard pressed to restrain themselves for much longer. In the absence of direct oversight they would soon resort to more forceful and effective methods. Then another thought imposed itself, what if they did not? What if the threat of reprisal were too great?
The girl was twisted round, looking back at the fight. It made her a cumbersome weight that slowed his retreat. The growing fear drove at him and he dragged her along in a crushing grip. Should Number Six somehow prevail he would give chase.
At a point of particularly violent activity his unwilling companion made a wild attempt to break his hold. In near panic he turned her wrist until her legs buckled. Anxiety threatened to overwhelm his as she fell at his feet like an anchor. The prickling in his spine made him feel as if his enemy were already in pursuit. Frantically he yanked her upright, forcing her to stand then half run as he hastened his pace; afraid even to look back least he catch sight of Number Six's snarling face closing in for the kill. Flight only increased his frenzy.
But as they moved away the pleasantness of the Village closed in round them shutting out the sounds of struggle. His captive, abandoning her show of resistance, now walked almost calmly at his side. At the complaint of his own hand, clamped so tightly about her wrist, he was obliged to loosen his grip. She rewarded him by keeping pace as if they were having a quiet stroll together.
The sun was drifting low towards the ocean and a cool breeze sprang up. They came within sight of her cottage and he turned aside. She made no objection and her easy manner inspired him to release her all together. And still she gave no indication of wishing to evade him. Silently she rubbed the place where his fingers had left their mark on her skin.
The quiet of the Village assured him Number Six had not broken away to pursue him. The crawling sensation at his back eased. There was no one to interfere and he began to feel once again certain of his victory.
"It's a wonderful evening," he said, "I know a quiet place where the view of the ocean is quite lovely this time of day."
She looked over at him. There was no concern in her empty face. Being alone with him did not arouse in her the fear he had anticipated. Her cooperation only served to reassure him of success.
He led her through the Village via a rout that shielded them from the many spying eyes of the cameras. On the outer perimeter he again found the surveillance's blind spots and led the way up the hillside. The girl had surly taken note of his efforts to avoid detection but she came along as if quite content in his company; the miseries of her former companion seemingly forgotten.
Far below a siren sounded. He froze, listening. After a time when no alert accompanied it he relaxed again. They had gotten the best of Number Six at last. The ambulance wailed triumphantly as it whisked him away to the hospital. The girl looked back almost placidly.
"Do you dream of escape?" he asked.
The question went unanswered and they resumed their walk for some time in a silence that allowed his thoughts to torment him. Now that the moment drew near he found himself filled with anticipation and dread. Both the consequence of action and inaction floated like specters before his mind's eye.
To break the terrible spell he spoke suddenly. "I contemplate often what it would be like to be away from this place. To return to the world."
If it surprised her to find that the warden might long to escape the prison over which he presided she gave no sign of it. Instead she said, "Number Six doesn't intend to escape."
It was for him to be surprised. The shock of this candor shook his fragile reality. Of course it was meant to. He glanced over at her, sullen at his side. She was trying to confuse him. Believing his intent was to interrogate her on the matter she wanted him off balance, trying to guess at her loyalties.
He did not bother to dispute her. Only a fool argues with the dead. He said rather blandly. "What are your thoughts on life and death?"
"You're afraid of living," she said.
He found himself angered by her continued efforts to disorientate him. "I'm afraid of no such thing."
"You sequester yourself in this place to hide from it."
"Don't talk nonsense." he scolded.
"Life is full of uncertainty," she said in defiance, "unpredictable behaviors and actions. But here, in the Village, you've done away with all that. You've domesticated people."
"You know nothing about what we do here." he said coming reflexively to the defense of the Village.
"Those who will not be tamed," she looked back almost wishfully as though thinking of him. Of Number Six, left behind to an unknown fate, "are destroyed."
"Are you worried about him?" he asked coldly.
She didn't answer, becoming quiet as trees around them.
"You're wasting your time," he went on still icy, despising her for her steadfast loyalty. "A man like Number Six doesn't need anyone care for him. He's a lone wolf. He will live and die in self imposed isolation."
She made no challenge and he knew he had won a small victory over her. Yet he was troubled by her. He had expected more difficulty in bringing her here but she had not really fought him. He was confident she knew many ways to extract herself from physical restraint. Some of which, he had little doubt, would have very unpleasant consequences for her capture. She had been content to merely annoy him with her ineffective thrashing. A show to impress Number Six? To convince him of her loyalty. Or was it himself she was trying to convince of something? The quandary proved too much for he weary mind and thus severed to anger him further. It was best to be done with her and by extension Number Six's damnable plots. Faltering now could only lead to disastrous consequence.
As they moved on, climbing higher into the thick of the woods his confidence swelled once again. Being away from the prying eye of technology brought a kind of relief. To be truly alone was rare in this place. He had not realized till he was free of the surveillance how much he hated it. The realization was an unpleasant discovery. Perhaps it was only his current intentions that inspired the feeling. Once he had done with it he could return to the comfort of a world overseen by his betters and be again at home in it.
They came at last to the appointed place. A little clearing overlooking the ocean upon which rode the bloated orb of the sun. The waves were splashed red with it and he thought of blood. Ridiculous he knew, as his crime would be a bloodless one.
The buildings of the Village lay among the trees like eggs in a nest. Quaint, peaceful as a vacation resort where one might go to get away from it all. He smiled at the notion, his thoughts again taking on that rebellious bent. No one, not even the warders, found peace in the Village. There was a time such bold truth would have shamed him into retreat, but now he found it fitting. They had created for themselves a kind of hell. He wondered that he should wish to be restored to it.
Light still bathed the slope, a gentle red glow making the world at once strange and beautiful. They seemed so far removed from it all. But the seclusion of the location was illusionary. A scream still may travel to the Village. He would have to move quickly to cut it off before it could burst forth.
Surrounded by a thick tangle of brush and trees he stood between Number Seven and the path. She could not easily avoid him.
"I come here," he said, "when I need time to think."
Now that the moment was truly upon him the thrill consumed him. He tensed, like a cat ready to pounce. In near ecstasy he anticipated the powerful sensation that would soon be his. Number Seven, his prey, seemed to take no notice.
"I think about the Village," he said feeling the familiar clench in his hands. She tilted her head as she looked down at it, quiet in the fading light of the setting sun. Her slender neck was exposed before him.
"I think about what the Village means to the world."
As the sun sank low into the ocean the cool shadow of approaching evening crept over the Village and up the slope like a great, dark hand.
"What would the world think of the Village?" she asked quietly, her attention still drawn down the hill towards the object of conversation.
"What does it matter?" he chuckled humorously. "One day the whole world will be the Village."
He lunged.
But she had guessed and she was so very quick. Her hands came up to block his, brushing them aside almost casually. Then like a will-o-the-wisp she seemed to float away from him on the evening breeze. He took a staggering step to catch himself, the exhilaration of the moment causing his head to spin.
As his mind cleared the realization of his failure seized him. The girl had evaded him. The damning implications chilled him. He willed that she might run, flee to the mountains where she could not bear witness against him. But she merely stood out of easy reach, her face calm in the dying light.
Panic and terror welled at once. She would report to his masters. The insane impulse to seize her was scarce held back. She was wary now. The scream he feared might tear from her throat before he could crush it. Or would she instead attack him? Frail as she was he suddenly feared her as they faced each other in the dusk. She was trained. He had thought to lure her to her death. But perhaps it was she who had lured him to his.
The confusion in his mind drove him to back away, feeling now exposed and alone in this secluded place. The comforting lights of the Village were far away. Phantoms drifting in the gathering night. She was looking at him, her face indistinct, the glint of her eyes as dim as the new stars.
"It won't take them long to miss us." she said. "They may already have."
He glared at the girl, his fragile nemesis. Perhaps he had overestimated the threat she posed. She was weak. Depleted by her many trials. Skilled she might be, but he was so much stronger. In his hands she would snap like a dry twig. Even now she seemed to be off her guard, a weary young thing with no fight left in her, offering him the opportunity he so desperately needed.
"People saw us leave the Village together." She went on, her voice drifting across the half dark to him.
What of it? He would tell them she had surprised him. Run away. She was doing so well. How was he to know she still had enough spirit to seek escape? She had fooled him. Fooled them all.
"Were you intending to claim that I had tricked you into trusting me, only to give you the slip," She swept a hand towards the rising slopes still bathed in the harsh red glow of a sun now lost behind the swell of the ocean, "and run off to the mountains again?"
Involuntarily his eyes followed the motion of her hand to those gleaming peaks and held there with that strange fixation exhaustion brings. It troubled him that she seemed to know his thoughts. Was she truly some kind of clairvoyant as Number Six had jested? His fatigued brain fancied the idea. The necessity of stilling her tongue flared all the more intensely.
"They wont believe you." she said softly.
Only when her voice brought his attention back to the moment did he realize he allowed himself to be distracted. He had to be on guard against his own weariness.
"My masters know you view me as personal threat."
He felt the dread of those words. Her Masters. They would not take lightly the loss of their property. It would mean an end to this preciousness experiment of theirs. In his passion he had overlooked her importance. An inkling of an unfavorable truth began to stir but it was driven aside as a new fear emerged.
Had they sent watchers to spy on him? His eyes searched the darkening world. His heart was cold as stone in his chest. He could scarce draw breathe. Had his move against the girl been witnessed? And then he soothed himself with a thought. If there were anyone close enough to observe they would have interfered when he had made his first attempt. The press of trees and brush seemed to close round them more protectively as the shadows deepened. He felt confident they were alone.
The girl was saying. "Of course they will review the camera footage and find the two of us walking back to my place, after you had Number Six taken away. But they will see that we continue on and soon they will lose track of us because you evaded surveillance. They'll wonder about that and then an inquiry will begin. All those dull people will be questioned. They'll remember too. They remember everything that involves you, don't they?"
He tried to recall how many people they had passed and where and found he could not. The Villagers were of no more interest to him than lamp posts or hedges. Just something to navigate around. A constant annoyance like tall weeds impeding his progress.
"That old couple, the ones who speak in unison," she went on. "They will remember greeting us on the path."
Had they encountered those two? Was he so engrossed in his own purpose he'd forgotten a direct encounter? Had he acknowledged them?
As if reading his mind again she said. "You returned their salute, they were quite pleased. As if God himself had smiled on them." she looked at him thoughtfully. "It's a curious thing, isn't it, how easily fear can be transformed into adoration?"
"You seem to know so much." he said in sudden disgust. Her line of reasoning challenged his resolve. He shoved it aside and moved a step closer. She would fear him, in that brief moment before her life was extinguished.
She ignored him. The threat he posed seemed forgotten. She was speaking again, in a flat tone as if reading an article from a newspaper. "A search will begin. If you're smart you'll play along. Let them think you're afraid I'm hunting you from the underbrush. Maybe have Six in to sweat the plot out of him. It will make for good theater."
He tried to make a show of being offended at her comments but the revelation of his plan rendered him nearly mute.
He managed a half hearted rebuke. "I don't know where you get these wild notions from."
Almost without his own awareness he had closed the distance between them. He could now reach her easily. She was untroubled by his proximity.
An alarm sounded. He startled at it.
"Don't panic," she said as if in friendly warning. "If you keep your head you can forestall the inevitable. For a while."
In the dark confinement of his mind his plan had seemed ingenious, but as she flung it forth into the light he saw it was fraught with flaws. The animal passion that had given birth to it began to wither before reason and the distant alarm was like the baying of dogs at his heels. The hopelessness of his predicament enraged him and his hatred and fear of her surged. He shook with the power of these raw emotions rendered now impotent. She knew of course. But she didn't care, plowing on boldly with her devastating speculations.
"Your return to the Village alone and the story you tell will only fuel suspicions. When they don't find me alive they will begin to look in another fashion. By then they will have guessed or you will have confessed." she said this with certainty and suddenly she was a medium divining the circumstances of her own death. "You didn't have time or opportunity to make a proper disposal. They will find the body under the bushes, where in your panic, you clumsily tried to hide it."
As she spoke he seemed to be seeing her face, half down among the decaying leaves, pale and cold with death. A single sunken eye peering up at him accusingly.
He realized she had fallen silent and into the space he said, "you have an over active imagination, my dear," as if to dispel the vision from his own mind.
"Have I?"
"I only brought you here to talk."
She laughed. "Which one of us are you trying to convince of that?"
So like him. Insolent to the last. The anger flared again. Was she taunting him now? Daring him to make another move against her? A move she had already, in her perfect logic, proven disastrous. She was right of course, he could not deny it. Now that the lust was ended he saw that the flaws in his plan were fatal. Silently he cursed her and his rational mind damned him for his laps. He could not kill her without putting an end to himself. He was blocked at every turn. Great fury rushed over him, like a burning torrent washing him away in a sense of hopelessness.
And then she threw him a life line.
"Number Six." she said simply.
"What of him?" he barked.
"You want information from him. I can get it."
He hesitated sensing impending danger. He damned the darkness that kept him from seeing her face. But it would have done him no good. Those quiet eyes were like sealed doors, always forcing him to guess at the treachery that lay behind them. How was he to know if the conditioning had taken or if she just played him for a fool. But like a fool he found himself desperate to believe her. She held open the door to freedom and beckoned him. Beyond lay not only escape from the trap into which he had blundered, but also redemption through the utter defeat of his enemy. He had to remind himself harshly that she was not to be trusted.
"Why?" he demanded simply, confident there was nothing she might say to convince him.
"I want to survive."
As did he. Yet his instincts warned him of her duplicitousness.
"Number Six has put you up to this." he accused slyly.
"He intends to use me to destroy you."
The truth of the statement shocked him. He felt his defenses give way under it, crumbling like a decayed facade.
In an attempt to validate his mistrust he snapped. "Why do you care?"
"Something about him," there was bitter resentment in her voice and also the deep sorrow of one betrayed, "I don't believe I can trust him."
Frantically he rationalized that the conditioning may well and truly have been a success. It was a powerful method, long proven to break down the most stubborn of wills. But he could not be sure. This one was different. An abnormality.
"What makes you think you can get it out of him?" he asked clinging to reason like a man hanging by a fragile root at the edge of a chasm.
"He wants to be forgiven."
In the quiet of the dark glade they stood together, two shadowy forms cast in the light of a waning moon. He knew he should not trust. Yet he longed to. Perhaps it was delirium brought on by stress and lost sleep. He could no more depend on his own judgment than the girl's loyalty. He need only to practice restraint. If he made no commitment she would try to convince him and in doing so tip her hand. Once she revealed her treachery he would have no difficulty in rejecting this false hope. He waited but she said nothing more. A dark gulf of night lay between them filled only with the far away cry of the alarm. She seemed to have no further interest in the subject or him. He was free to make up his own mind about murder or allegiance.
He wished she might choose to escape into the night and spare him the agony of decision. But she remained, as silent as the shadows that loomed all round, tempting him to betray himself. And insidiously, without his notice, he did so.
The girl's voice came quietly out of the darkness. "Make a deal with me."