Over the last two hundred years, there has been a dramatic rise in the average person’s Numbers. As of the most recent census, the average Number for an adult over the age of forty is two-hundred and seventy-six. Compare this to the census from fifty years ago, where the average Number was two-hundred and sixty-five. While this difference may not seem significant, keep in mind that it represents the average of millions of people -- for the average of an entire population to shift by even a single Number represents a statistically significant change. And while census data on Numbers is not as reliable prior to fifty years ago, evidence suggests this trend has continued for at least the last two centuries.

What is even more interesting are the changes in specific Numbers. The strength Number, for example, has actually decreased on average compared to fifty years ago. However, the statistical variance of the strength Number in the population has increased significantly. The charisma Number represents the highest change: over the last fifty years, the average charisma Number for adults over the age of forty has increased from two-hundred and thirty-seven to two-hundred and seventy-one.

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

I sit in a corner of the treehouse, head in my hands. Styx is slumped against the wall to my right, head resting on my shoulder. Normally I would be ecstatic to be in this position. If I wasn’t so miserable. If she wasn’t crying. If Pallas were here.

As it is, I can't even bother to look up from the planks of wood beneath my feet.

After Pallas held up Jeremy, the rest of our escape was simple. The other men following us were way too slow to keep up and by the time Jeremy was able to extricate himself from Pallas’ death grip we were hundreds of yards away and concealed in trees. Even Jeremy wasn’t fast enough to catch up to us before we could disappear, no longer illuminated by the moon.

It took us another hour to find the treehouse. Too scared to use roads, we wandered through trees and backyards until finally finding a house we recognized. Honestly, I remember hardly any of it. We’ve been sitting silently since then.

I should have been the one to tackle Jeremy, not Pallas. I should have attacked Jeremy with my knife while Pallas held him down. I should have told Melete to use her skill. I should have told Styx to use her gun. I should have come up with my own escape plan, a better plan. Should have. Should have. Should have.

I stare at the wood between my legs, unseeing. I’m not crying. As much as I failed in leading us out of Fort Carscott, I can stay strong enough to avoid weeping in front of my friends. Little use though it is.

Sam is nowhere to be found, but I can’t bring myself to care. 

We lost Pallas.

Everything since the inclusion -- every tragedy, every failure, every struggle -- has been terrible. I’ve seen horrible things, things worse than anything I could have imagined prior to two weeks ago. But part of it has never felt real. 

My Numbers being lost? I imagined I’d eventually find a way to get them back.

The cabin burning down? I saw the cabin for the first time earlier that morning.

My classmates dying? Sure, I knew their names, but I didn’t really KNOW them. And I never saw them die, not with my own eyes.

The monster attacks? They were, and still are, terrifying. But so far, we’ve won. Every time.

But not this time. This time, we lost. We lost Pallas. My friend, who I’ve come to trust, and who trusted me. And we let him down. I let him down.

Finally, everything seems real. Why did I ever think I could do this? It was always going to end in failure, why did I even consider it a possibility that I could try, that I could lead? 

My thoughts cycle further and further down, an endless parade of self-recrimination and doubt. Even the small joy of Styx by my side, crying on my shoulder, is sucked away. Why should she lean on me? At some point, I’ll just fail her too.

I’m distracted from my self-pity by Melete’s voice, singing a jolly tune softly to herself as she digs through the bag of supplies we left behind.

Oh wheeeeerreee, is my hairbrush?

I ignore her, my thoughts returning to Pallas. Why couldn’t he have made it out, instead of me? Sure, he isn’t a leader, but at least he’s dependable. He’s truthful. He doesn’t hide a potentially life-saving skill from his friends for days while struggling for survival.

Melete lets out a satisfied grunt as she finally pulls out her brush, and begins working some of the knots out of her hair. Her song changes to a new, equally joyful ditty, the strokes of the brush matching the beat of the song.

Baby shark, do dooo, do-do, do do.

Two lines into the song, Styx loses it. 

“SHUT UP!” She screams, tears still in her eyes. Melete looks up, seemingly confused at the anger directed her way. “At least try to pretend to be sad. Did you really care so little about him?”

Melete still looks confused but doesn’t stop brushing her hair. “Who, Pallas?” She finally asks. We just look at her, dumbfounded. When we don’t respond, she continues. “Well, yeah, I guess so. But I mean, I already didn’t see him much for the four days we were in the fort. Another day or two won’t make much of a difference.”

We sit in silence, confused, and Melete goes back to humming her song with each brushstroke.

“...what do you mean?” Styx finally asks. 

Melete keeps brushing her hair. “It won’t take longer than a day or two, right Atlas? Whatever plan you come up with to bust Pallas out of that place?”

Suddenly, it all makes sense. Pallas didn’t die. At least most likely not -- we didn’t hear any gunshots as we were running away. Melete never even considered that losing Pallas might be permanent. She assumed I’ll come up with a plan to bust him out of the fort. A fort full of over four hundred people, constantly on high alert for any approaching monsters. And she has full confidence that whatever plan I concoct, it will work. That within the next day or two we’ll all be reunited and back on the road to Clayton. 

Like a wave, I feel my misery pass out of me as it’s replaced by something else: Melete’s simple trust. Not for a second did the thought that we would abandon Pallas ever enter her mind. Not for a second did she think our plan would fail. That MY plan would fail. 

And from her simple faith, I start to hope that she might be right. 

I smile. “A day or two, of course.” And I begin to plan.

I wake up the next morning, still cautiously optimistic about our future. My planning session last night was quickly abandoned in favor of sleep -- it was the middle of the night, after all -- but I’m ready to get started today.

We munch on breakfast as I question Styx. “So what were you doing the whole time in the fort? What can you tell me?”

She shrugs, eating her own granola bar. “Honestly, the work itself wasn’t too bad. Mostly I just spent my time with my squad, Squad G. Guarded the walls, helped out when monsters were sighted, trained on the gun range.” She pats the new rifle sitting next to her. “I never actually killed any monsters, only shot a few. My turn to kill the next monster would have come in another couple of days.” She hesitates before continuing. “It actually would have been bearable, except for a few things. The stupid Numbers restrictions, and Jeremy constantly hitting on me.”

I nod along throughout her explanation, but at the last statement frown and choke on my food. I cough as Melete pounds my back until it finally comes up and I gasp out, “Hitting on you?!?!?”

Styx nods. “Gross, right? He’s like, double my age. He just wouldn’t take a hint. I eventually just told him straight up to leave me alone, but he still didn’t accept it.” As thunderclouds form over my face, she hurriedly explains. “Don’t worry, he didn’t try to force the issue or anything, it seems like he isn’t completely despicable. But I didn’t want to stay there any longer than we did.”

I nod. I regret even more not choosing to pull out my knife when running, regardless of the gun in Jeremy’s hand. “How was the day-to-day?”

“Each squad had three shifts a day, four hours apiece, of guarding the walls. The squads would split up to cover a large section of the wall, but stay within earshot and check up on each other regularly. The squad leader has a walkie-talkie, which they can use to radio in for reinforcements or anything else. When we weren’t guarding, our time was pretty relaxed -- they’ve got a game room in the cafeteria where most people hung out. I tried to train as much as I could to get out of the school. Jeremy was almost always in the school, at least when he wasn’t finishing off a monster. I swear his turn to finish monsters off came waaaaay more often than anyone else’s.”

I toss her one of the markers. “Can you draw a layout of the school, with any important rooms marked? Aside from showers in the locker room and meals in the cafeteria, I was outside almost the whole time.” She nods as she starts to sketch. 

After she’s done drawing, she points to a small, central room in the school. “I would guess this is where they’ll be keeping Pallas, at least for the next day or two. They used it as a ‘prison’ for people who didn’t want to fall in line. From what I heard, it was only used for this one guy whose family died and then went kinda crazy.”

That’s definitely good to know. I continue to study the diagram.

Styx hesitates before continuing. “We would have tried to grab you two and run earlier, but Pallas and I almost always were on opposite shifts. There was never a time when neither of us would be immediately noticed if we disappeared.” She frowns. “I guess they noticed pretty quickly anyway. The last day, I got assigned to be a runner for Jeremy -- I think mostly just as an excuse for him to spend more time with me. But it was my job to pass messages for him to people who didn’t have a walkie-talkie. That last night there was some sort of weird monster attack, and apparently one of the non-combatants had reported already seeing the monsters that were attacking. Jeremy sent me to grab the guy, and I made a beeline for Pallas. I told the guards of the tents Jeremy needed them, we split up to grab you two, and you know the rest.”

“The guards that were inside the camp...how come I never saw you or Pallas in those areas? Were your shifts just at the wall?”

Styx nods. “There are separate groups for internal and external guards. Most of the squads are external, watching the walls and patrolling the edges of the fort. It’s more dangerous, but you’re much more likely to get a chance to kill monsters for Numbers.”

I nod, thinking. “How about you Melete? Anything to add?” 

Melete swallows before speaking. “Not much. I saw even less than you, Atlas. They had me working in one of the gardens.” She makes a weird face, clearly unhappy with her assigned task. “And halfway through the first day, the people near me complained about my singing and then they made me work silently! Jerks…”

“Complained about your singing?” I ask. While Melete can certainly be annoying, her voice is unquestionably pleasant.

“Yeah, they said it gave them a headache.”

“...and were you using your skill when this happened?”

“Only a little!” Melete protests. “And only when I was next to Teresa. She made fun of my name, she deserved it.” 

Styx stifles a giggle next to me, and I turn back to the map to hide my grin. 

Sam is still missing, but I don’t want to wait for him to show up before planning. I’m unsure if he would be willing to help us anyway -- after all, he said he wouldn’t fight other humans for us when we first approached the fort. 

I continue to stare at the diagram in front of me as Styx extends it, adding the buildings and other landmarks surrounding the school to her drawing. Slowly, a plan comes together in my mind.

S: 102

D:100

W: 322 

I: 101

C: 70

0

Skills: Adjust:Self