It’s about three.

Ronnie knows it sounds stupid, maybe even a little crazy, but he’s been counting down and now that he’s down to three, he’s not going to stop and let the number climb up again.

Long ago, before school and counting and understanding, there was Mary Beth.  A little, red-faced, squalling thing -- she cried all the time, so loud that she hurt his ears, but when he told his mother, she explained that Mary Beth was still a baby and- she just didn’t understand when to shut up.  Oh, his mother might have been a bit more diplomatic than that, but he hadn’t really been listening to anything but the soothing sound of her voice; he’s sure that was what she had meant, whatever words she’d used.  And then one day, Mary Beth just -- stopped.  No more crying, no more funny baby-smells, and he had his family back.  He couldn’t tell his mother that, though, because she looked so sad all the time, and it took her forever to smile the way she used to.

But when she did, it was at Bobby, for schoolwork and stupid jokes.  Never mind that Ronnie had been counting for years, that he tried harder, it was always Bobby.  Then Bobby went away to his special school, and all Ronnie had to do to make his mother smile was be there; simply existing was enough, before, but now–

Bobby is back, all smiles and shrugs and look-at-me friends.  Freaks, all of them.  With their mind-control and secret-stealing DNA.  *Mutants*.  That’s what they are, and it’s not right, not natural, it’s... abnormal.  And when his mother gasps in horror at Bobby’s attempt to (contaminate them) show off, she does the right thing and cuts their family down to three again.

He takes the stairs two at a time, and when he gets to the top, he eyes the number on the television, picks up the telephone.

As he waits for the cavalry to arrive, he thinks about numbers and family, and how three is always, always preferable to four; there’s a reason trilogies are so popular, after all.  He wonders if the... mutants... downstairs bleed red, like regular humans.  He’s betting they don’t, that their wounds seep green -- Alien blood, and he hears the old guy say something, voice sharp, then footsteps, hurrying, scurrying, and he goes to the window, so he can see it all.  He’ll tell his friends about this (not the Bobby part, because that’s a private shame, a skeleton in the family closet), and how he watched as they were brought down by justice from four to-

There’s the sound of wood splintering downstairs.

three

A shot.

two

A scream.

one

And then an explosion.

zero

Oh yeah, he’ll tell them that he was there, watching... and counting down.
 

~end~