Scott's question met with silence. He tried again, "So, is either of you going to answer me then?"
Hannah and Zeke stared at each other, their eyes wildly trying to convey unspoken messages. Scott saved Hannah yesterday, but he was an Agent, Brigg's Agent. Yet neither of them could think of an excuse quick enough. Whatever they said now would risk everything and more importantly put Cecily and Hannah's parents in even greater danger.
Hannah looked towards the front of the car and caught Scott looking at her in the rear view mirror. His gaze was surprisingly kind, almost urging her to talk. Hannah broke away first and looked down, now feeling strangely guilty as well as scared.
"Okay, let's go back to headquarters and you can fill me in there once under caution." Scott said, his voice taught with frustration.
"Scott, don't do anything rash. Now is not the right time to talk. Hannah has a meeting with Briggs. She has to be there. I will tell you everything, but understand this has nothing to do with Hannah. It is not her fault!" Zeke responded.
"You think I am going to let her, the girl who is conspiring with our enemies or you for that matter, anywhere near Briggs? Scott blasted back.
"You have no idea of what's going on and you know nothing of Hannah. Mention any of this to Briggs and you will regret it" Zeke said to Scott, unable to hide his anger.
Scott pulled the car over to the side of the road and they slammed to a stop. He threw his door open and jumped out. Pain seared up his leg into his back and made him tremble slightly. Scott hated weakness in anyone, but most of all in himself.
"Seems that I know enough already. Don't threaten me, Matheson," he shouted as Zeke got out of the car and faced up to him.
"Or you will do what?" Zeke replied and moved forward till there was barely any distance between the two men. Both were equal in height, similarly well trained, well matched and both men knew it. Scott was relying on the fact that Zeke was a good twenty or so years older him, hoping it would make him slower. Zeke, on the other hand was banking on his experience, Scott was still a babe in arms when it came to experience. They glared at each other, nostrils flared slightly, fingers began to curl into fists as both men seemed to pull themselves up taller, chests puffing out.
"For god's sake stop this" cried Hannah, running around the side of the car. With a hand on each chest she pushed backwards, trying to move the two men away from each other. Neither man moved, both so focused on each other, barely aware of her interventions.
"Zeke, Scott, please," she all but begged. "I have to get to Briggs. I have to help my parents." She dropped her hands, lowered her head and began to walk away.
The desperate tone in her voice cut through the fog of anger and both men turned towards the Hannah.
"Hannah, we will get you back there now. He won't do anything to them yet. We have time," Zeke called after her. Hannah kept walking.
"What about her parents? Hannah, stop. Dammit Hannah what is going on?" Scott shouted to her.
Hannah turned and pointed at Scott. "Was it you that shot my elderly neighbour? Did you pull my Mum and Dad from their bed and drag them to a cell? Are you going to interrogate them?"
Scott stood gaping at her.
"See, you can't even admit it. You are just as bad as the rest of the Perfect scum. In fact you are worse. The others are rotten because of their indifference. Scott, you're just like Briggs. You're rotten because you take pleasure in ruining our lives, crushing us like bugs on a footpath." She felt the urge to slap his face and wondered how it was she was now standing in front of him. She hadn't noticed herself even walking towards him. "I know exactly what you are, Scott," her words dripping with hate.
YOU ARE READING
The NumberedScience Fiction
Imagine the second you're born, a consultant removes you from your mother's grasp and runs a battery of genetic and physiological tests on you. Thirty minutes later they give you a score out of one hundred which denotes your level of perfection. If...