Nine, now eight. Are the rest of you out there?

I drop the other Chest to the ground in shock. "What number are you? I'm Four." He squints at me and then offers his hand. "I'm Nine. Good job staying alive, Number Four.

During the fire: 'Some of the drunker ones don't move. Some of them laugh. One person says, "Where's the marshmallows?" Mark slaps him across the face. "GET OUT!" he screams.

Life is but a fine wine to be sipped and favored.

I guess I had this silly notion that things would be different now, since I was different.

Maybe the only good thing about death is that you never have to relive it. You never have to remember the pain.

In the beginning we were a group of nine. Three are gone, dead. There are six of us left. They are hunting us, and they won't stop until they've killed us all. I am Number Four. I know that I am next.