Missing Forty-two

“C’mon Thirty-seven, you have to see this.” 

I hesitate, reluctant to take his hand, “I’m not so sure, Forty-two, if the Dignitaries catch us⸺”

Forty-two grins, “Of course they’ll kill us. That’s obvious, I know. I’m pretty sure everybody knows.” He entwines my fingers in his, lowering his voice, “But they won’t, I promise.”

I squeeze his hand, giving a weak smile as I tried to bring sense back into my unresponsive nerves. ‘He’s your best friend, Thirty-seven, keep a clear mind.’ Forty-two wears the usual plain, beige t-shirt and sweatpants required from all male residents of Hidem. His hair is cropped in the same style required by Dignitaries, revealing the number tattooed on the back of his neck. 3642. Just as mine is 3637, or Thirty-seven for short. The original number 42 is long gone.

After the third world war, the American military forced the citizens to retreat to the one place untouched by radiation and war; an island just 900 miles off the eastern coast of Florida. Unfortunately, thirty other countries settled there too. For ten long years, war raged among the people of the island, killing millions. Tired of fighting, the thirty countries agreed to share ownership over the land and signed a peace treaty, founding the nation of Hidem. 

To prevent another war, the thirty nations decided not to select any sort of president nor monarch, but instead resolved that the military, the Dignitaries, should lead the people. Thinking that our differences led to war, the Dignitaries forced the people to obey a strict code. We were rid of our cultures, our religions, and our names. We couldn’t love, care, or show kindness, for it may cause unwanted tensions. We are just numbers forced to live a life without love. To ensure we didn’t leave, a wall was built around the island, keeping out any sort of foreigners. Breaking any of these rules would most certainly lead to death.

And we are about to break half of the 4049 imposed.

I pause halfway down the rope, “But curfew started an hour ago.”

Forty-two rolls his eyes, “Which is exactly why we’re sneaking out now. We won’t have to worry about tattlers.”

“But we will have to worry about grumpy, tired Dignitaries strutting around.” I state, continuing to rappel down the side of the house. Forty-two simply flashed a grin, grabbing my hand and racing down the street. I will my palms not to sweat, my heart not to race. Not that it is working. I give in, disappointed in my abilities.

“Where are we going?” I inquire, realizing that I should have asked the question ten minutes ago.

“Somewhere.”

I snort, spraying a significant quantity of nasal liquids on Forty-two, “Yes, real specific. I appreciate the acute description and imagery, on point, Forty-two.”

Forty-two holds a finger to my lips, nodding to the lone Official wandering the neighborhood. I silently bless the shadows for masking my reddening face.

I release the breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he grabs my hand and I attempt to suppress the butterflies that continue to accumulate in my stomach. We approach the cement wall, it is even more intimidating up close. It towers over us, 100 feet high at the least, and 10 feet thick. Hidem invested a quadrillion Bills into this beast. Forty-two runs his fingers along the surface, tapping and kicking the cement in certain places. After five minutes of the repeated motion, he finally stops, giving a hard push which seems to form cracks in the stone. It slides back, revealing a metal staircase. I cannot see the top from here, for it spirals upwards until it cannot be seen any longer.

“What is this?”

“I always wondered how the Dignitaries got up to the watchtowers on the wall without any sort of rope or ladder. So I decided to follow one of them a few nights back.” 

“That is⸺”

“So suave, manly?” He interrupts with a playful grin.

I punch his shoulder, “I was going to say ignorant. Brainless. Definitely pea brained. You were lucky you didn’t get your life terminated.” He chuckles, grabbing my hand and leading me up the staircase.

By the time we arrive at the top, we are breathing hard. But what I see takes away my breath completely. The ocean stretches towards the horizon, glistening under the pale glow of the moon. The stars are scattered across the sky, like candles lit by the universe. A cool breeze sends shivers down my spine as I curl into a tight ball. I do not dare to take my eyes off such a pristine sight, afraid that if I look away for even a fraction of a second, the world before me will evolve into one that is tarnished with impurity.

“Wow,” I breathe. What else is there to say? And for the first time in my life, I laugh. A laugh of youth and happiness, untainted by the worries of daily life.

I turn around to find Forty-two staring at me. His brown eyes bore into my blue ones, flickering with something I cannot quite place. I tear my gaze away, my face heating up. He leans down, leaving less than an inch of space between us. I tilt my head up, my eyes widening as he comes closer.

“Hey!” A voice interrupts us, “You!”

It’s an Official. My stomach drops, so much for not being caught. Next thing I know, we are racing down the steps, well aware of the impending death sentence if we were to be caught.

We reach solid ground, but in the distance we can see movement. The night patrol. I mentally slap myself for forgetting such an important detail. The other Official is seconds behind us, I can hear the thud of his footsteps as he dashes down the metal stairs.

“That way,” Forty-two whispers to me, pointing towards a narrow alleyway across the yard, “If you hurry you can make it.”

He does not have to tell me twice, I make a run for it before he finishes his sentence, but he does not follow. Then it dawns on me, ‘You can make it’. Just me. I turn around to find a crowd of Dignitaries circling around him; a pack of hyenas closing in on their prey.

I sink into the shadows, watching as a spectator from the darkness.

“Your number?”

Forty-two doesn’t bother to struggle against them, he wouldn’t stand a chance even if he tried. “3642.”

“The captain’s son?” One of the Dignitaries asks. I hold my breath, silently hoping they would let him go. He continues, “How disappointing, so much potential, all gone to waste. Take him away.” Then they drag him to his death.

 I want to scream, to cry, to rid the world of such cruel people with one mere sound wave. But I cannot, for this land mass called Hidem has already suffered internal wounds; I am trapped within its walls, never to break free.

***

12 years later

I stand among my fellow Dignitaries, waiting for the others to join us. I did not choose this fate, the Dignitaries did. At the age of 18, I was selected by the captain to join the next generation of Dignitaries. If I refused, I would be imprisoned for the rest of my life. But every time I patrol the streets, or see a person carried away, I do not forget Forty-two. I never did.

“Attention!” A voice snaps me out of my thoughts. It is Lieutenant 2578, the captain’s left hand man. “As you all know, Captain 2356 died in his sleep earlier this morning. He was a great man, and will be remembered as a hero.” I suppress the urge to wince. ‘What sort of hero kills an innocent boy?’ Such ridiculous propaganda.

 “But someone new must be chosen, someone young who is not afraid to do what has to be done. Someone who’s wisdom will ensure Hidem’s success.” 2578 pauses, “I’d like to welcome your new captain: 3642.”

My jaw drops. ‘3642? That’s impossible, he’s gone.’ But that all changes when I see a young man step onto the stage. He is nearly the same. The curled blonde hair, the tanned skin. But his eyes, what used to hold warmth and youth, had been hardened, washed clean of any joyousness.

I rush to Forty-two as soon as he steps off the podium. No one seems to notice, probably because they’ve already left.

“Forty-two!” I exclaim, embracing him in a hug he does not return, “What happened? Where have you been? I thought you were dead.” I shift from foot to foot, my heart pounding as I meet his eyes, “I’m so sorry, maybe I can make it up to you. We could go up to the wall, watch the stars, you know, like we did when we were teens.”

He fixes me with a hard stare, “First of all, the name is Captain 3642. Second, you speak to me like that again, or do whatever that was, I’ll have your head.”

I gulp, “But it’s me, it’s Thirty-seven.” 

“I’m sorry, but I know no Thirty-seven.” A mix of emotions swirl inside me;shock and disgust being the most evident. What did they do to him?

***

I haven’t talked to Forty-two since the day he became captain of the Dignitaries. That was 3 months ago. I do my best to avoid him and the awkwardness that follows. Today, I join him on the wall for eve patrol, along with two others. The sky is already darkening when we start off. I stick to the back, keeping my distance.

“Hey! Stop right where you are.” A voice shouts. At the southern border, we find an Official chasing after a boy no older than twelve. He has raven black hair and a frail structure. His eyes are desperate, fearful. 

It takes no more than thirty second for us to pin him down. He thrashes and wriggles but it’s no use against the strength of an Official.

“Your number?” Forty-two asks.

“4-4589.” The boy mumbles, his knees trembling uncontrollably. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of beige on the ground, a boy. He has the same black hair as the boy, the same pale skin and hazel eyes. Brothers. I pity him, I know that feeling of helplessness as you watch a person you love be carried away.

“3637,” Forty-two orders, “Take him away.”

I look between the 4589 and Forty-two, torn between my head and my heart. I clench and unclench my fist, “No.”

He seems taken aback, “Excuse me?”

“No.” I stand between him and the boy, unsure if I had made the right decision.

He shoves me aside with ease, removing the gun from his holster. I clutch his wrist, “Don’t do it.”

“He broke the law, I’m following orders.”

I stare at him in shock. Forty-two, the Forty-two that I knew, that I loved, would never say such things. “What happened to you?”

“I was made into a better person, that’s what happened.”

I nod to the boy, “Go.” I say, before turning my attention back to Forty-two. “I know you’re in there somewhere. A person, not a number.”

Forty-two nods towards the boy and the other three Dignitaries take after him. I can only pray he makes it out alive. 

“I’ll take care of her,” he says.

The moon illuminates the night, just as it did all those years ago. “You took me up the wall, remember? We broke curfew, and a bunch of other rules too.” I chuckle, “And you promised we wouldn’t get caught. Except we did. A-and now they’ve turned you into this-this monster.” I cautiously reach towards his face, turning it towards the horizon. “Please,” I beg him, “remember me. Remember who you were, who you are.” Forty-two’s gun clatters to the ground as he stares into the distance, the obscurity clearing from his eyes as the memories flood his mind.

When he looks back at me, he radiates the same joyful youth that had made me love him in the first place. “Thirty-seven?”

I choke back a sob, running into his arms. The world around me fades into oblivion as I take a good look at him for the first time in a decade. Then there is a sudden bang, and the ecstasy I felt dissipates. Forty-two collapses in my arms, blood seeping through his shirt.

Behind him stands Lieutenant 2578, “What a waste?” He says before turning to his Dignitaries, “Leave the girl.” He waves at Forty-two, who is fighting for his life, “That is her suffering.” Then they vanish into the cover of night.

Forty-two reaches up to touch my face, “Look.” He turns his head towards the night sky, “You know,” He wheezes, “if I am to die this is the last thing I ever want to see.”

“You’re not going to die,” I say through my tears, “You won’t.”

He smiles, shining brighter than any star. “I-I-” He doesn’t finish, and he never will. He goes limp as his eyes lose their light, his mind fading as he departs from this world:  leaving me alone once more.