To Be Free Read Free Page A

back onto him. He flinches back instinctively, the
way everyone does when they meet my eyes and realize that I have
the eyes of a witch.
    "Number Nine," I state,
withholding the knowledge of my real name to him. Sure, I remember
it the way I remember how to breathe, but there are some things you
keep to yourself for the sake of protecting yourself.
    He frowns at me, clearly
unimpressed, and I shrug. Then I lift up my shirt to show him the
scar they've burned into my skin over my left pectoral.
    "When you survive the first
test, you're given a number. You're no longer who you say you are,
and you'd better forget that you ever had a name - here, you're a
lab rat," I hiss, lowering the hem of the shirt and hiding the IX
burned on my skin. "They test on you as much as they want until
they have results and when you're no longer needed for the results
to be satisfactory. Then they break you into pieces to be used by
those who're too good to be in a slum like this."
    "But... why?" Twenty-One
Questions asks, and I try not to sigh again. When I first came here
I had so many questions, and there was no one to help me.
    Besides, chances are he's dead
in a matter of minutes. It won't hurt.
    "Because
of that ," I
state, pointing to the ceiling of our cells. He looks up curiously,
muscles locking in place when his eyes catch sight of the
words.
    He shakily
whispers the words Bill 911. Adam's apple bobbing up with his nervousness, he
mouths the words that I've memorized already.
    By order of the Holy Order of
Christ, Pope Benedict the XXVIII has ordered that any and all
Unnaturals who have been captured are to be given to the research
facilities scattered across the United States of the New Order, and
have their names and rights taken from them. From that day forward,
they are specimens to be tested on and to be discarded. All Runners
captured are to be taken to these facilities.
    All specimens must be a
Survivor of the screening pre-birth examination that gauges what
sexual orientation the child is, and have been confirmed as a
Survivor through another screening. Any and all results not
heterosexual are to be considered illegal as of this day onwards,
and any citizen protecting the Unnatural will face Court Martial
Law.
    As cited in Bill 911, section
1.a, the United States of the New Order of the Church of Christ's
Charter of Rights, adapted from the United States of America's
Constitution.
    "You set off the test, you pay
the price," I conclude, looking away again. "You've only yourself
to blame, and you should've Ran while you had the chance."
    He scoffs, looking away.
    "I don't know why I didn't," he
mutters, thinking aloud as if he expects me to give half a fuck
about what he's got to say. "Guess I thought I could actually raise
my own family and pretend it didn't exist."
    I laugh, the
sound foreign to me as it makes me shake and makes my eyes water.
He turns to me with rage in his eyes, his fists balled at his
sides, and I press my hands to my eyes to keep the tears from
flowing out of sheer stupidity.
    "Pretend that
something in your blood didn't exist? " I splutter, looking up at
him. Eight and Five are laughing quietly to my left, having heard
the exchange. He's scowling at me. "Jesus, what planet do you come from, you
idealistic bastard?"
    "California," he states flatly,
and I snicker.
    "The last true land of the
brave and free, before the N.O. took that, too," I snicker,
regaining my composure. My sides are aching with the laughter, as
it's been... four years, I think, since I've laughed like that. The
last time I was that merry was in Germany before my family thought
it'd be a good idea to go to the N.O.
    I look as the hydraulic doors
open, admitting two Vigils and a scientist brandishing a syringe.
The scientist has a gas mask over his face, the lenses clear and
allowing us the sight of his eyes as he scans the line of specimens
awaiting his questing touch. We can't see his lips, but I know
they're curved into a smile.
    They stop