One of the most significant paradoxes of the Numbers is the occasional divergence that appears between the Numbers and reality. For example, there have been no substantiated cases of Numbers decreasing. However, the majority of the elderly are significantly weaker physically than those who are in their fifties, despite having the same or slightly higher strength Numbers. However, higher Numbers are shown to reduce the natural physical and mental atrophication that comes with age and disease.

- Excerpt from “The Five Numbers, 5th Edition”

It's been three days since I was attacked by the monster. The first two days after the battle I hid in the shed almost constantly, alternating between sleeping, eating, and being bored. The only time I left my sanctuary during that time was to relieve myself, and those trips were spent frantically looking over my shoulder and running right back to the shed immediately after I finish.

At the end of the second day, I realize that my plan isn't sustainable. My food won't last forever, and my hopes of a rescue vehicle or helicopter flying in to save me are getting smaller and smaller as each second passes.

Which explains where I am now.

I'm currently pushing a wheelbarrow full of whatever supplies I deem useful down the dirt road in the direction of town. The bus was on this road for just over three hours, which, if I were at my old Numbers, I could probably jog and reach the nearest area of civilization in less than a day. With my current Numbers, and carrying all of my supplies, I expect that I won't see any other people for three days at the very least, more likely four or five.

With a sigh, I take another break. Trying to push the wheelbarrow up these hills certainly doesn't help my pace. However, I can't bring myself to leave any of it behind. I have over a week's worth of food and water in front of me, plus medicine and bandages, a flashlight, three blankets, a pocketknife, a lighter, and a shovel and a spade. The last two items were some of the first things I packed before leaving.

Although being bored in the basement of the shed along with seeing no additional signs of other monsters for days desensitized me somewhat to my previous abject fear, there was no way that I would leave my temporary home without something to defend myself with. The pocketknife, although sharp, has very little weight or range to it, which the shovel has in spades.

Heh...speaking of spades, it gives me something I can use one handed, as I'm not entirely confident in my ability to swing the shovel accurately or powerfully with my wounded left arm. The spade isn't perfect, but it at least gives me six more inches of blade to swing one-handed over the pocketknife.

I removed the bandages from my arm midday yesterday to find the cuts scabbed over and healing nicely. I would have liked to re-bandage it, but the bandage I had been using was already dirty from seeping blood, and I am running short on extra cloth, so I decided to just leave it open and hope I don't reopen the cuts.

I left the shed just after dawn this morning. During normal times, the odds of me getting up on my own before dawn would be next to nothing, but when the alternative is traveling in the wilderness after dark, I find I'm much more motivated to not waste daylight.

I look up at the sun. It looks like it's just after noon. Shrugging my shoulders, I reach for a can of beans and jug of water from within the wheelbarrow. Here is probably as good of a place as any for lunch, and I could use an extended break from hiking up this hill.

It looks like the hill keeps on going up for only another hundred yards, but I'm scared to get my hopes up too high, as I've thought the same multiple times before seeing only another incline after rounding what I thought would be the summit. The dirt road is relatively smooth, with room enough for two cars to barely pass each other. There's a few yards of grass on either side of the road, with trees immediately beyond that. The undergrowth in the forest is fairly sparse, but thick enough that I don't want to have to try to push the wheelbarrow through it.

I slurp up the last of the beans and toss the empty can to the side of the road. I feel a small pang of guilt at the casual littering, but I rationalize that it is such a small thing compared to my survival. I really don't want the added weight of empty cans or the smell of open cans nearby when I finally have to sleep tonight. Hopefully the empty cans will serve as a distraction for any other wild beasts or monsters.

I take a gulp of water, then toss the half full jug back into the wheelbarrow. This hike has been exhausting, and I've already gained one point in my strength Number since this morning. With a sigh, I grab the edge of the wheelbarrow to pull myself to my feet.

"Ungh!"

I'm knocked to the ground by a sudden weight that hits me from behind, and I feel the sharp points of claws digging into my back though my shirt.

Not again! Luckily, as I get knocked down, my hand on the wheelbarrow pulls the entirety of my supplies on top of me and my assailant, which causes the beast on my back to release its hold with a yelp and back up.

As quickly as I am able, I surge to my feet, looking around for what attacked me. In less than a second, I see my attacker, another monster, identical to the creature which almost killed me three days ago.

I growl in disgust as I maintain eye contact with the dog-monster. In my last fight fear was all that drove me, and although I can still feel that same fear causing the recently eaten beans to surge within my stomach, this time I am more motivated by anger. Two times a monster like this has attacked me unprovoked and unaware. The first time ended with me the victor and the monster lying dead in a field, and I'm resolute that this time will be no different.

Perhaps the monster sees something of my thoughts in my eyes as I stare it down, because it hesitates and its snarl becomes a bit more unsure.

In the corner of my eye, I can see the spade lying on the ground less than a foot in front of me. I slowly lower myself into a crouch to reach for it when the monster's snarl increases and it takes a step forward.

I freeze. Still staring straight into its hateful eyes, I prepare myself.

With a sudden burst of movement, I reach down, scoop the handle of the spade into my right hand, and dive to my left. The instant I begin to move, the monster charges, and my dive barely allows me to dodge its outstretched claws.

As I roll out of my dive to my feet, rather than waiting for the monster to charge me again, I decide to take the initiative and run to where the monster is now recovering from its first charge. By the time I reach it, it is still off balance, and I punch out with the spade to its side.

Success! It lets out a pitiful yelp as it hops away, and I endure a moment of guilt at the noise, but quickly shake it off. This is no abused pet dog, this is a predator, a monster trying to make me its prey.

It is now circling around as it stares at me, limping slightly every time its left front leg touches the ground. I halfway expect it to retreat now that I've showed I will not be an easy meal, but it instead charges me once again, catching me by surprise.

I may not have expected it, but I have more dexterity than I had in my last battle. I'm still not nearly as fast as the beast is, but it is coming at me in a straight line and has too much momentum to stop or change direction quickly.

As it leaps at my throat, I take one frantic step to my right and swing my spade up in front of me. I am able to knock it to the ground, and before it has time to recover, I jump on top of it, stabbing wherever I can reach.

The monster doesn't accept the abuse without fighting back. It swings its head around and manages to grab my right shoulder in its mouth, digging into my skin with its teeth.

With a scream, I punch its face with my left hand once, twice, three times, causing it to release me, and I back away. My right shoulder stings, but doesn't hurt as much as my left arm, which burns from being used as a bludgeon so soon after being injured.

However, the monster is much worse off. I seem to have broken something serious within it with all of my stabbing, as it is not able to get back to its feet, although this does not stop it from trying. When I approach to finish it off, it snarls at me, and I quickly retreat.

Going back to where my supplies are scattered on the ground, I pick up the shovel, always watching the monster out of the corner of my eye. Walking to just within striking range, I give the monster's hateful eyes a final snarl, and bring the shovel down.

It takes more than one hit to finally finish it off, and on the second swing I knock it further onto its side and notice something I didn't see before. Over its entire body, the short fur is a mottled gray color allowing it to blend in easily in most environments, but on the inside of one of its front legs, I see something blue.

Is that...? Could it be...? With awe, I stare at the five blue patches of fur on its leg, which amazingly, miraculously form the shape of five small numbers.

No. Those aren't just numbers. Those are Numbers!

96

184

35

21

13

Before I am able to make sense of this realization, the Numbers blur into amorphous shapes, before reforming into five small zeros. At the same time, I feel a strange sensation, the feeling of strength, of competency, of POWER flowing through me. I look down at my left palm, where my new Number is currently in the same amorphous figure the fur on the monster was in seconds earlier.

Before I am able to panic, the Number reforms again. And once again, for what seems like the hundredth time in the last few days, I'm left staring in awe at my left arm.

S: 52 (+3)

D: 28 (+4)

W: 28 (+1)

I: 26 (+1)

C: 25

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