The Numbered

Chapter Thirty-Eight

"So how old are you?"

"I turn seventeen in January," she replied.

"Do you live near here?"

"Not far."

"Where do you go to school?"

"I don't at the moment. I'm taking some time out, helping my Dad."

"So, what does he do?"

"This and that," she replied. "Are you still in school?"

"Yes, I've got a couple of months left."

"What are you going to do then?"

He stopped walking. Now that was a question he would so easily have answered just a few hours earlier and yet now he had no idea. In just a matter of hours he had gone from turning eighteen, with the world at his feet and yet now, with his reduced SPR, his options had severely shrunk. Medicine was now out of the question. He didn't even know what careers he would now be allowed to pursue with an SPR of just eight-four point seven. If it hadn't been so bloody cruel, he might actually find it funny.

"I haven't decided yet," he answered, he couldn't let her know his status yet; it might have her running for the hills. "Is this coffee place much farther?"

"Just around the corner."

They continued further. Edward was now far from home. The area was becoming more run-down. The buildings they passed looked uncared for and in need of renovation. People milled around and stared at them as they walked by. Edward checked is jeans pocket for his wallet. It was still there, the contents of which, suddenly made him feel nervous. In addition to the new car, his father had given him some money and it now weighed heavily in his pocket.

"Should we actually be here?" he asked.

"Oh, don't worry, we're safe here. My father has, shall we say, interests in this area." She didn't elaborate further. ""We're here now, anyway." Melody pointed to a small building just up from them on the left. It had a pharmacy on one side of it and a boarded-up bar on the other. A ripped, green and white awning extended precariously from the wall just above the window. The glass was painted with white wash, although it had flaked off in places. Melody opened the door and a bell chimed. Edward hesitated for a moment, but she turned and smiled at him, so he followed her. He could imagine himself happy to follow here anywhere.

"Take a seat, I'll go and order. Coffee with milk?"

Edward nodded and looked around. Of the ten or so tables in the café, only one of them was occupied. A man was reading a tabloid newspaper.

Edward went to the opposite side of the room and chose a table. His nose turned up as he noticed the red vinyl tablecloth to be sticky and littered with crumbs. He moved his chair back slightly and turned to watch Melody. She wasn't at the counter, but the woman behind it was pouring two coffees so he assumed she'd gone to the restroom.

The woman came over and placed one of the cups in front of him, the other she placed on the table where the man read the tabloid.

He reached for his drink and took an eager sip; the hot liquid burnt his top lip.

"They make a good cup of coffee here, Edward."

Edward's head spun around. "Sorry, do I know you?" Edward asked the man with the tabloid.

"No, Edward, you don't."

A chill ran down his back and he placed the cup back on the table. Edward looked around the café hoping Melody would appear soon. In his gut he knew something was very wrong and he wanted out of there.