Free 29:16:04:59 by Joshua Johnson

Maybe things would have been different. Maybe I wouldn’t be so out of my element, or so unloved in Downtown.
                  “So honestly…” Glasses started. His tone switched as he slowed his pace to a crawl before stopping completely. “How has it been? Life, that is.”
                  It was an unexpected question. Every day we fought for existence. Even if I could live one day longer I was still approaching my twenty-sixth. In this land, aging meant dying, and at a relatively young age. Instead of getting upset, I remained neutral. I shouldn’t be made at him. It was, after all, just a question.
                  “Truthfully, I wish things were different. Who wouldn’t, though?” I asked. It was the nicest way I could put it. To think about everything all at once, the shootings, the hunger, the turnings, and that awful barrier with the clouds and lightning, it all drove me senseless.
                  “You and me both, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” Glasses said. He was on edge. That good nature flipped on itself and disappeared. In its stead was a hard grimace.
                  “What do you mean?” I asked.
                  “I’m talking about the number, twenty-six.” He took those sunglasses off and shot me a look with a pair of deep gray eyes, streaming with intensity. This was nothing I had known before, this guise. “Tell me you know something. Anything.”
                  “What?” I asked, immobilized.
                  “ The turning . Tell me you understand it. Tell me you’re close to a cure, or a treatment. Tell me something that I can share with the others. I need to tell them they don’t have to be afraid of tomorrow, that their brothers and sisters aren’t walking into the shade anymore. Tell me you discovered the way to combat the thing that kills more of us than hunger and murder. Just, tell me…”
    Glasses trailed off. It wasn’t anger nor sadness. It wasn’t pain and didn’t seem like desperation. The plea coming off his lips wasn’t anything like that, but I couldn’t place it. I didn’t know if he was directing all of these emotions onto me or if he was just at the end of his rope.
    “You were the best of us,” Glasses continued. “Are the best us. You kept more alive than you even know, and you’re the only one left who can help us.” His eyes blazed with passion. I could hardly believe this was the same person.
                  “I… I’ve… been… I mean…” I stumbled. I couldn’t find my tongue. No one had approached me like this before , especially not about the turning . Most everyone I knew made it the furthest thing from their mind, but Glasses seemed to have it always there. He’d been hanging onto the belief I was out there somewhere, still alive, and coming up with an enchanted remedy.
                  “You don’t have one…” Glasses said. It wasn’t a question. The fire in his soul extinguished just as quickly as it had started. “If you don’t have one, no one does,”
    His eyes glazed over. Maybe he was so close to turning twenty-six. Then again, maybe he just knew there were so few of us left and wanted to help all of them.
                  “I’m sorry,” I said.
                  “Sometimes, hope is all we have. Some of us haven’t given up on that yet, haven’t given up on you either.” He returned the shades to his face, trying to mask the coming tears. He sighed, but managed a smile. “Best you remember that. Well, let’s get moving again.” Glasses turned around and picked up the familiar pace.
                  An orange glare erupted just above us, bringing our attentions skyward.
                  “That a flare?” I asked.
                  “Okay, look,” Glasses pointed the down the alleyway. “Continue this way until you get