The Numbered

Chapter Thirty-One

"Are you ready Hannah?" Zeke asked; the first thing he had said since they left Charmed.

"No, but I might as well do this anyway." she replied, staring intently at the dog.

"Don't worry about him; he's a real softie when you get to know him."

The driver got out and opened Zeke's door.

"Jim, we won't be long, let me know if anything unusual occurs."

The black dog jumped up at Zeke, and began happily licking his hand.

"No problem, just keep an eye on the time. You cannot be late for Briggs" said the Jim, the driver.

"Will do," Zeke replied.

The driver closed Zeke's door and went round to Hannah's side.

Hannah climbed out slowly, suddenly nervous. The dog made a run for her and growled; Hannah backed up until she was leaning against the car.

"Burt, come here boy!" shouted a female voice, a familiar female voice.

Hannah's attention immediately shifted from the dog to the owner of the voice. She looked over towards the cottage and standing on the veranda stood Mary. The dog ran back to cottage and Mary bent over and patted its head.

"You shouldn't have brought her here, Zeke," she reprimanded.

"She gave me no choice," Zeke replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Quickly Hannah, come inside, we can talk there."

Hannah's mouth was open wide, unable to take in what she was seeing.

"You'd better close that mouth, Hannah or you'll be catching flies," Mary laughed.

Zeke tugged at Hannah's arm and led her to the cottage.

They made their way up the creaking wooden steps onto the veranda. Mary held the fly screen open and ushered Hannah and Zeke inside. The room before them was sparsely furnished. At one end was a modest kitchen area with an old wooden table and chairs. The table was already set for six people; none of the crockery matched and many of the items were chipped or had cracks. On the opposite side of the room were a couple of worn armchairs and a wooden rocking chair positioned next to the large brick fireplace. A fire was slowly dying in the grate and sat by it, was a rack of small children's clothes, drying.

"Mary, are the children here?" Hannah asked excitedly. She'd missed them terribly, they reminded her of happier times and she realised she was quite desperate to see them.

"Aye, they are. Just out for a little walk, collecting logs for the fire. They won't be long."

The Mary who now stood before Hannah, was not the sad, weak woman she had known. Here was a confident woman, who carried herself with strength and composure. Hannah felt nervous in her presence.

"So what brings you here Hannah?" she asked.

Hannah had thought of a dozen questions in the car and yet now, when asked what they might be, she didn't know how to answer. Zeke offered her no help, having taken a seat at the far end of the kitchen and was looking at his ComDat. Mary could see she was struggling and stepped in.

"I supposed you want to know what's going on, who we are and why you are involved?"

Hannah nodded.

"That's a lot of questions and most of them I can't help you with."

"Are you the leader of the, err... resistance?" Hannah replied.

"Heaven's no! I'm just a poor soul who was forced into this by fate, by circumstance, by Briggs, all of it I suppose."