Three-sixteen's POV

Three-sixteen ran. He ran until the trees and brush were all a blur and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He thought the man behind him would surely catch up, even if he never stopped running.

Three-sixteen had never seen him around the surface, but by his clothes it was certain he was a magistrate, or maybe even a Judge. If that were true, Three-sixteen could do nothing but run and hope to lose him in the wilderness.

He was tired, his lungs burned, and his legs ached, but he couldn’t stop. He had to run or he would never see—

Five-ninety-one!

Had she been caught? What had happened to her? He had to find her.

He pushed his body to the limit as he raced through the trees. He could feel his feet digging into the ground with each step as he raced back the way he’d come, or the way he thought he’d come.

The trees were too tall, the foliage too thick. All he saw was branches and leaves wherever he looked. He may as well have been trying to find his way blindfolded. He felt lost and afraid, but he didn't slow. He couldn’t stop, not until he was sure she was safe.

A branch scratched his face as he ran, leaving a burning line across his cheek.

He was lost and he wasn’t sure he could find his way back. He slowed to a stop, his chest heaving with every breath. Three-sixteen felt the heat in his lungs and feet like he was standing on a furnace. The air was stifling and he wondered what he was doing.

He was free, but now he was trying to find his way back to the mine in hopes of meeting Five-ninety-one. If he did make it back, what good would that do? Would he even be able to find her?

She was probably long gone by now, or she was captured. In either case he’d waited long enough and at this point it seemed clear that she wasn’t looking for him.

Three-sixteen hated the mines. He wanted out, though he’d never have said so. He made himself content in the absence of hope and he survived! He hadn’t realized it then, but she gave him the spark, the push he needed to want more for himself and now that he had it he would never return to that place.

He sat down, catching his breath and thinking. He had to find food, water, and shelter, then he would decide on his next move. He wasn’t giving up on finding Five-ninety-one, but he had to be realistic. If he did somehow find his way back and she was somehow still there, still alive; all he would manage now was getting himself caught and almost certainly killed.

He didn’t know where to begin his search. It had been so long since he’d been on the surface he’d all but forgotten what it was like. He thought he'd be lucky to find shelter before nightfall and it would definitely be dark before he found water. Food he might be able to find somewhere in the woods, but he wasn't sure what would be safe to eat.

He thought of the bug he saw earlier, how strange and fascinating it had been. He wondered if he would ever see such a thing again. He wondered what else he would find on the surface.

It was then that he heard a sound, a voice, from behind him.

“I’ve got orders not to kill you, but if you give me any reason. If you run, if you try anything dumb, I won’t hesitate to make this very, very painful.”

He knew that voice. It was Luck McToo—McCool. Three-sixteen imagined Luck had been waiting for this moment a very long time. Three-sixteen knew well his cruelty, and he would not make this harder than it had to be.

Three-sixteen turned around and saw Luck coming towards him with purposeful strides. The magistrate smiled big and wide like he’d already won. He always had that smug grin when it came time to punish numbers. It was almost enough to make Three-sixteen run just so he could wipe it off of his face.

He resisted the urge.

Luck paused just out of arm's reach, he wrinkled his brow and his grin shriveled into a frown as he stared. He said, his voice deep and cold, as he asked, with a hint of intrigue, “How did you get topside anyway? No one else ever has.”

Three-sixteen didn't answer, he just stared back. He didn’t think the magistrate would believe him anyway.

Luck chuckled, shaking his head. He said, “You think you’re in control here?” his voice low and mocking, he added, “You’re just a number.”

Three-sixteen didn’t care about that. He might’ve been a number. His life until now had been following orders and being obedient. All that was true, but he was free now. He could decide if he obeyed or not. He could decide if he answered, and he wasn’t going to.

Luck seemed to expect that. He looked like he was about to say something, but he stopped, cocking his head as he looked past Three-sixteen.

Three-sixteen turned, expecting to see another magistrate, but there was no one.

When Three-sixteen turned back, Luck was gone. He didn't even hear the magistrate move.

The sound of a crackling energy whip made Three-sixteen flinch.

He felt a searing pain in his shoulder as the whip wrapped around his arm and jerked him to the ground.

He struggled against the magistrate's pull, but it was futile.

The magistrate was much stronger, and he had the element of surprise.

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He jerked on the whip, slamming Three-sixteen into the ground and pinning his arms to his side.

Laughing, Luck bellowed, “I told you I’d make this painful if you didn’t cooperate and I’m so glad you didn’t. Just please, don’t die, and keep up that rebellious spirit; I want to enjoy this.”

Three-sixteen thought the magistrate was insane, but he had to do something. He had to get away.

He tried to push the whip off of himself, but his hands sizzled when they touched the electrified string. He was trapped.

His whole body stiffened, and his muscles spasmed as Luck dragged him back towards a tree. He felt the whip tightening around his arms and legs as the magistrate tied him to the tree.

Three-sixteen struggled, but every move he made sent jolts of pain through his whole body.

Luck stood up, taking a step back, admiring his handiwork, as he said, “That should hold you. You see, I may not be allowed to kill you, but I can bring you to the cusp of death and I fully intend to.”

Three-sixteen believed him. He was afraid, but he wasn’t going to give up.

Three-sixteen struggled to free his arms, but the whip was too tight and the more he moved the more it hurt. His vision began to blur and he slumped forward.

Seeing this, Luck frowned. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t give up so soon. We haven’t even started yet.”

Three-sixteen looked up and saw the magistrate reach for something at his belt.

Luck held a small green crystal, its verdant color glimmering in the sun.

He said, with a sinister smile, as he held it out in front of him, saying, “This is a healing crystal. If I see you start to pass out, I will use it to heal you. Unfortunately this trick only works so frequently for someone like you before it overwhelms your body and begins to grow extra bits.”

Three-sixteen had never heard of that before. He knew some crystals could heal, but he didn’t know how they impacted numbers. He’d already eaten too many crystals; he didn’t think he should eat even one of Luck’s strange green crystals.

Three-sixteen straightened himself out.

The magistrate laughed again. He was clearly enjoying this.

Three-sixteen waited for Luck to strike him, but nothing happened. The magistrate simply stood there, grinning until Three-sixteen decided to try something.

“You’re real tough shit, aren’t you?” Three-sixteen asked, his voice quiet and hoarse.

The magistrate raised an eyebrow.

Three-sixteen continued. “Well, maybe not as tough as Vianni, she revealed in combat, always seeking bigger and stronger prey. You’re just out to torment those you know are too weak to fight back. Between the two of you, who would win in a fight?”

He was bluffing and he hoped Luck didn't catch on.

The magistrate sneered, his eyes narrowing, his lips curling in anger as he stepped forward and struck Three-sixteen across the face with the back of his hand.

Three-sixteen's head whipped to the side, and he felt blood drip down his nose. He hadn’t seen the attack coming, but it gave him some satisfaction knowing he had gotten under Luck's skin.

Three-sixteen smiled as he turned his head back, looking at Luck and asking, “I guess you don't like to talk about her?”

The magistrate took a deep breath, then let out a low, throaty chuckle as he said, “Vianni? Unless she’s sucking my cock, I don’t give a damn about her.”

He stepped forward, swinging again, but this time Three-sixteen dodged.

Luck scowled as he punched Three-sixteen in the face and Three-sixteen spat blood and said, his voice a bit shaky as he asked, with a smile, “She's sucking your cock?”

Luck swung again.

Three-sixteen said, “I think you're lying.”

The magistrate stopped, his fist inches from Three-sixteen's face.

The magistrate smiled.

He stepped back as the spark of an idea flickered in his eyes. His tone was soft, almost a whisper, as he spoke, the words slow and deliberate, like he was thinking it through as he went along, “You had a little girlfriend didn’t you?”

Three-sixteen didn’t understand the question.

“A real firecracker, she was. Matted hair and dirt caked on her like she was born from the earth, but she had a fine figure. You were smitten the moment you saw her.”

Three-sixteen felt his jaw clench as he held back his anger. He felt a surge of energy well up in his chest, but he refused to give in to his emotions. He refused to show weakness.

The magistrate was baiting him, he knew that, but it didn’t make it any easier to remain calm.

“Seems like we’ve got similar tastes. I bet you didn’t know I was fucking her every cycle, after every shift. She came begging for it, day after day, always like a fucking sifter in heat.” Luck bit his lip as he slowly closed his eyes as if recalling the events.

Three-sixteen shook his head in disbelief. It couldn't be true. Luck had to be lying, he was just trying to get under his skin.

He thought that might be it, but then he realized that he really didn’t Five-ninety-one all that well. He only knew that she was fearless and brave, but maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe she didn’t fear the magistrates because she had one protecting her.

The more Three-sixteen thought about it, the more he felt like his head was spinning. If she had been with Luck this whole time then why was she so eager to escape? Why hadn’t she just stayed with him?

“Mmm, she was good. Maybe not the best I’ve had, but certainly at the top of the list for a number. Oh, but you don't believe me do you? Maybe you think I'm lying, but I know the truth. She loved it; she loved the way I made her scream.”

Three-sixteen tried not to listen. His hands were trembling and his head felt ready to explode from built up pressure. He’d had enough.

“Shut the fuck up! Go fucking die! Kill yourself you useless scum!” The words escaped his mouth before he realized what he’d said.

The magistrate’s jaw snapped shut. His eyes widened with fear and his hands shook as he seemingly fought against himself, trying to resist some unknown force. He couldn’t stop his hand from pulling the gun off his belt.

The electrified whip lost its sting as the magistrate’s gun met his chin with a bang.

Three-sixteen fell to his side, feeling light headed and dizzy. He didn't even know what happened, but Luck was dead and he was free.

The electric whip dissolved into the atmosphere, allowing Three-sixteen to fall on his knees. Tears filled his eyes, but they weren’t tears of sadness or even fear. Luck’s words had twisted the best moments of Three-sixteen’s life. It was anger, anger that consumed him. Anger that Five-ninety-one could be so weak and broken by the magistrates. He felt betrayed. He felt powerless. And for the first time he considered that maybe Five-ninety-one had used and abandoned him. Maybe she had done the same with Luck, or maybe she hadn’t, but he was no longer convinced she was his friend.

Rage pushed him to his feet. He took the gun from Luck, aimed at his head and fired. He pulled the trigger over and over until nothing was left but a red soupy mess and the gun wouldn’t fire. It was out of rounds.

Three-sixteen looked around, searching for more ammo, but there was nothing. There was nothing but the satisfaction that he had killed Luck McCool.

Three-sixteen tossed the gun away, finding the satisfaction empty and the rage unabated. He wouldn’t be at peace until he knew the truth, but he wasn’t so sure he really wanted to find out.

He thought about going back to the mine, but he didn't want to.

He thought about waiting for Five-ninety-one to return, but he knew he should be running, he needed to get as far from the mine as possible. He knew that, but he had an uneasy feeling like someone was watching him.

Soft rustling of foliage seemed to confirm his fear.

A twig snapped somewhere behind him, then a woman rushed out of the bush in front of him with a knife in each hand. The boy from earlier drifted down from a branch and landed a short distance away, a flame dancing in his hand. To his left and right two more women approached each carrying a gun that they pointed at him.

He felt trapped, surrounded, but he held his ground.

The first woman moved in close, her eyes cold and hard as she stared at him down. She swung her left blade at his neck. He dodged back, tripping into the arms of an assailant he hadn’t seen. The man locked his arms around Three-sixteen’s shoulders and the shorter girl with a gun struck him in the face with her weapon.