The Numbers on Her Wrist

38

The second trip with the orphans goes smoothly.

It astonishes me how sparsely each of the guards are positioned tonight, and excluding the single guard we encountered patrolling the first stage room- whom 541 apprehended and knocked unconscious with ease- we were alone the entire way through the hallways and rooms of the orphanage. Although despite the fact that the circumstances were in our favor, we had several delays ranging from a child tripping to turning the wrong way to me being forced to stop because of my injuries.

I lean heavily on 541, his arm wrapped around my waist tightly and his fingers avoiding the wound on my side actively. With every step, I feel as though the stitches are tearing further into my side and my newly forming bruises are turning the color of my skin to different hues of green, purple, and black. The fight with the guard caused me more damage than I had originally thought, despite how short it was compared to many other brawls I have had- I am thankful he will be out of the way when I return for 583. I glance back warily as we round the corner of the alleyway, watching for signs or shadows of any pursuers that might be behind us, before turning to address the teen who holds me steadily. "All the other children are hidden between two buildings, with a few trash cans in front of them to ensure they aren't so obviously tucked away there."

He nods a few times and adjusts his hold on me, his lips pursing together before he gestures with his free hand for some of the older kids who heard my statements to jog ahead the next fifty feet and start moving the concealed children into the open. "Do you know when this FBI agent is supposed to be here to pick all of us up?" I shake my head slowly and grunt in pain as we step off the curb, rattling me so that the aching increases to a steady throb. "He should be here soon... I told him to meet me at the end of this street," I nod forward, watching as the two separate groups of children slowly file into one congregation, reuniting with tears of joy- they have been away from each other's company for merely an hour or an hour and a half, but they have grown close through their many struggles and daily abuse. My thoughts trail off and I speak to the boy once again, still marveling at how he has grown in the past years. "I say we head down there and wait in a spot visible to only that side of the road; we should avoid staying on this street for too long, as it's only one away from the orphanage's."

As 541 smiles in agreement and bobs his head once, opening his mouth to speak to me, but shuts it quickly as we see a car's headlights turn onto the avenue we all are gathered on. The orphans reduce their talking to whispering, many limiting their movements to breathing and a couple of stray blinks every few seconds. I tense up immediately, and know that 541 must feel my muscles tighten as he quickly leads us from the middle of the pack through the small, warm bodies of the children to the front. We walk together to where the vehicle has stopped its engine, but allowed the bright lights to remain shining on our figures.

"If this goes bad, we need to get the children out of here- no matter the cost... I have my gun and a spare, along with two knives." I look at him, "We go down fighting if we have to?" He gives me a curt nod in response, both of us focusing our attention on the new arrival.

The driver's door opens hesitantly, a dress shoe made especially for a man of foot-heavy business stepping outside and the person standing to his full height. I squint in the sudden darkness, relief flooding through my veins as I recognize the tall man in his black suit and kind features; he looks worried and stressed.

"Amelia," Agent Daniel Lawson greets, racing to my side and pulling my other arm over his head to escort me to the edge of his car so I can lean against the hood. "What on earth happened? I told you to wait for everyone to get here and- oh, my God!" He draws his hand away from my side, frowning at the sticky substance covering his hands as he realizes what it is. "You're bleeding!" I groan as they sit me against the blue Mustang's front, not stopping my sarcastic remark, "What a great observation, Daniel! I hadn't noticed."