Episode 162: Bendable Lies (Emily)

Each day, Emily spent less and less time with her original three boys and more time with the ten corpses in waiting. What started as one hour had become three working hours with the corpses. That left five with the boys, including lunch most days.

It was a horrible thing to think, but with a place to set on destroying happiness she couldn’t imagine what was in store for its experiments.

She’d spent the past few days collecting as many of the herbs as she could, to terminate the pregnancy and protect the babies.

It felt ridiculous that protecting them had come down to poison. If there was another way, she would find it. As things were, there were no options to keep her babies safe and they were still young, still ideas.

She hadn’t even felt ill yet. She would get the last of the plants that day, and it would be done with. She was taking inventory of what she had, looking for what she needed, when someone, undoubtedly Cecil, knocked on her door.

She tucked the herbs away, into a bottle of vitamins she had been given for the babies. She made sure the pills covered the plants as best they could – she had only stored what she needed for the spell, no excess.

She walked across the room, which took about five steps, and opened the door.

It was, as she had guessed, Cecil. He was wore leather again, as usual. Everything about him was the same as the day before, including the strange look he had and the way he seemed to want something from her, or know something she didn’t.

“Yes?” she greeted him.

“I’d like your assistance with a lesson.”

“Let me get my things.” She turned toward her room, then she turned back. “Oh, I don’t have any. I’m ready.”

She stepped into the hall, past his over-built body.

She was going to see the ten boys again, the boys she felt a strong attachment to because of how vulnerable they were and how vulnerable she had once been. Protecting was her calling, too much her calling.

Of all the boys, she thought about Brendan in her room the other day.

“Your little game with the boys has been unexpected,” she said to Cecil.

Instead of replying to her goad, he handed her a flimsy piece of newspaper. She took it from him and indulged him by reading it.

It was from the Weekly Familiar, a newspaper run by an idiot who would print any story that made the company money, even if it was something ridiculous like a new bike trail being ridden by someone important.

“An update from home,” he stated.

The scanned down it, down to the bottom of the front page spread about a fire in Clovercrest. A large picture of row houses covered almost a quarter of the page.

She scanned the houses for someone she recognized. Bertrand Gable the II had died, some kids were orphaned, and one of the Lavesque sons, who was running for governor, was leading a job fair.

She didn’t know what Cecil wanted out of showing her this, so she just replied, “Interesting.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s a reckless move by someone that doesn’t understand the community, she stated, about the Lavesque boy.

She’d met that Lavesque boy, not that she would tell Cecil. She’d met him in the park, late at night. He’d saved someone’s life, with her help. If anyone was going to survive Sylem, it was him. She’d never known he was a Lavesque until now.

“His uncle is the president,” Cecil stated.

“Is he?” she asked. “I didn’t notice. I haven’t been home much.”

He plucked the paper from her hands and tucked it into his pants pocket. “I’ll keep news articles to myself if you like.”

Drat, he wasn’t going to fall for her casual ignorance.

“I’d like to read them,” she admitted. Then, before he could entice more from her, she asked, “What is the lesson?”

“See if you can get them to lie to you. All of them have taken truth serum. Ask them whatever questions you like.”

This was a game against her just as much the boys – what she asked them would be based on her own perspective, things he may have not noticed about the boys. It also could provide information about the boys that no one had thought to ask, not just based on what she saw but random chance. She would have to be careful and ask simple questions.

“That sounds fun,” she replied. If fun was torture. “Any tips? Is there a punishment for failure to lie?”

“Ask them personal questions; that will provoke the most desire to lie. There is no punishment.”

She would not, unless she had to, but she would find a way to provoke lying. What little the boys had left they deserved to keep. She may be the only one who thought so, and the only one fighting for them, but she wouldn’t just give up.

“I’ll try,” she offered.

“I let your mother know you’re alright,” he said as they rounded the last corner before the classroom.

She froze and gaped at him. “My mother? Is she…”

She had no idea what to say. He was stalking her mom. She kept walking, down the hall and toward the class. It was a threat, most likely. It didn’t feel like a threat, it felt like he was letting her know something.

“Worried,” Cecil replied. “She’s working childcare during the rebuilding project.”

Next he was going to get down on one knee and tell her that, while her father was gone, he had asked her mom for her hand in marriage.

She wanted to puke at the idea.

She nodded, because whatever he was up to, he hadn’t caused direct harm to her. “Anything I want to ask?”

He stopped outside the door and looked at her. They were almost the same height, but he had thick soled shoes while she had flat ones. Plus, he was an inch or three taller than her on top of that.

“Anything goes,” he said. He opened the door.

Anything goes.

She was going to take advantage of that.

Emily stepped in the room, ahead of Cecil, and walked up toward the large whiteboard that encompassed one wall of the room. She picked up a black marker and began writing a list: balloons, streamers in orange, purple, red, and blue, truffles, ten notebooks, and 12 pizzas.”

“And caramels?” Brendan asked.

She grinned as she wrote caramels.

“I need this list,” she informed Cecil. “A substantial quantity of the caramels and truffles. And, if time, strawberry donuts from Antoine’s. At least two dozen.”

Cecil shook his head but wrote the list down. Good, she wanted them to enjoy, as best they could, each day they had.

“Any messages?” Cecil asked.

“Tighten the sink valves.” She hoped he would puzzle over the meaning of her message, but really he just never remembered to and they seemed to come loose every so often.

She turned away from Cecil. “Now. Who has an answer to the assignment from last class?”

“What was the question?” Asa asked.

She heard Cecil laugh as he shut the door.

“Does anyone know the question?” she asked the room.

Thackery raised his hand, his light curly hair and tan skin set him apart from the group. “Which is the left side of a round plate, or something.” His brows angled inward as he sorted it out. “Which side of a plate matters?” He looked up at her, eyes alight. “Which side of the plate faces north!”

Close enough. “And who has an answer?”

The room was silent for a moment, then Neron said in his low voice, “You look at the wording on the back.”

His voice surprised her whenever he spoke; he looked like he was the youngest of the group by two years at least. He was short and lean with a narrow chin and a smaller face. He had dark hair and the same caramel brown eyes as Rhyss. He was the most feminine seeming of the group, aside from his voice; he was small like a mouse. If he had a familiar, Emily suspected it would be something mouse or shrew like, or perhaps a rat – they were intelligent and social.

“If you care,” she replied. “It really doesn’t matter,” she admitted. She didn’t know if it mattered, either. It just seemed like a fun puzzle for them to try and sort out. Many games were not subject to the truth but to the truth the judge believed in.

Osmund stared at her. “That was an unfair question.”

It may have been, but if they believed the word fair applied to them than she had much more to teach them.

Today, though, was about lying. “I have one you may be able to answer,” she said to Osmund. “What’s your favorite color?”

“They’re colors,” he replied. “I’m supposed to pick one? Which one is the right one?”

Interesting point. “Maroon,” she said, the color of the stripes on Rhyss’ couch. “What’s your favorite color?”

“I pick maroon,” Osmund said.

Clever. Not a lie in its entirety but said without struggle. She was impressed. Perhaps. If this wasn’t the first time they had been exposed to truth serum, then it may not have been that impressive.

She looked to Mikail. “What is your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

She looked to Therrien. “And yours?”

“Orange.”

She shook her head and let the marker, still in her hand, bounce against her opposite hand like she was running out of patience. “Two wrong answers… you know the saying Thackery: three strikes and you’re out.”

She walked closer to his row, and stood in front of him. “What’s your favorite color?”

Thackery’s face strained, his eyes narrowed. “Why do I have to have a favorite? What’s the point?”

“This is my lesson,” Emily stated. “You’ll see.”

She walked across the front of the room and then stopped in front of Thackery again. “What’s your favorite color?”

She could see a small bead of sweat on his forehead, his eyes tight and his face a little red. “I really want maroon to be my favorite color.”

She felt a wave of guilt. She was scaring him, and probably the other boys in the class. She didn’t want to scare them, but she wanted them to survive. If this lesson required them to become capable of lying, they needed higher stakes. Protecting secrets from a room of people you spent most seconds of your existence with, and had always been with, seemed like a small motive compared to the thing they feared most: death.

She hadn’t even mentioned death yet.

“But…” she said to Thackery.

More droplets of sweat fell down his face. His hands were balled into fists. “Blue.”

“Stand up,” she said. Emily walked over to a table of weapons, in the back corner of the room, and picked up a small thin sword. “Sit by the wall and hold this.”

Thackery stood up and the class watched him as he walked to the back of the room. He looked pale. She wanted to hug him.

This was important. This was survival.

She handed him the sword and walked to the front of the room. As she walked, she couldn’t help but let her hand fall to her stomach. She needed to free them from this fate.

She took a deep breath and turned around.

“Ian,” she said. “New question. Who in this room irritates you most often? The correct answer is…” she looked around the room for the least annoying person, from her experience. She settled on a boy with nothing extraordinary about how he looked or talked. He didn’t stand out in any way, yet. “Mikail,” she said.

Ian looked at Mikail then back at her. “Why is Mikail the correct answer?”

“Because I said it is.”

The entire class shifted with that, understanding what was going on. Ian sat up straighter.

“But he’s nice,” Ian argued.

“Wrong answer.” She looked away from him and the anxiety on his face, the apology to whoever was next as he followed her across the room.

“If it’s arbitrary then we can’t win,” Asa declared. He looked at his classmates, “No one should answer.”

“Wrong answer, Asa. Two strikes.” She stopped in front of Jayden. “Jayden? Who is the most irritating person in the class?”

“Asa,” Jayden said without thinking.

Emily went to the back of the room and picked up an axe. “Join Thackery in the execution line with this.”

“Execution line?” Jayden asked. She could see his adam’s apple move down his throat as he stood and swallowed.

“Yes.” Execution of future cutting pizza duties. She wanted to tell them, she hated this, but she wanted them alive. It was a vicious circle.

Jayden walked slowly, his feet dragging. The class didn’t watch this time.

“What if I said maroon now?” Thackery pleaded.

Emily stopped walking and looked at Thackery. “What is your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

He looked like he wanted to jump away from his mouth, like it had betrayed and offended him. It had betrayed him, because of the truth serum. He was too sweet and innocent despite the hardening of this place.

How she wished he could preserve that, not have it beaten from him with threats.

How much she loathed who she was, doing the bidding of Cecil and the United Realms.

She should have joined a cult.

She kept her chin up and walked toward the front of the room, leaving Thackery and Jayden huddled with their weapons.

“Why?” Thackery asked. “What happened.”

She ignored him, because if she didn’t she was going to hug him and promise things she couldn’t guarantee she could deliver.

“Asa, I have a question for you. Are you afraid of being here?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Do you think you’re going to die soon?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do you want to die?” she asked. Then, without a thought she added, “The correct answer is yes.”

She wanted to die in some ways, and she wanted her twins to die. It wasn’t fair to make him admit something in front of the class. For her, that was pushing a line. For him to survive, as the favorite, when others wanted to live more – if that was how he felt….

“Yes,” he replied.

She smiled and pretended he had lied, but she wasn’t certain.

“What’s your favorite color?” she asked, as though she was making progress.

Asa thought for a moment. He glanced to the side of the room, as though he wanted there to be a window there. “Green. Alive things.”

“Two wrong answers,” she stated, counting Thackery’s latest offense. “Who is the most irritating person in class?”

“Brendan,” Asa stated.

She moved to the back of the room. She needed results. She scanned for a weapon, and found a toothed knife that would hinge inside someone and rip its way out. She carried it to Thayer and handed it to him.

“Asa, who is the most irritating person in class?” she repeated.

“No!” Asa yelled. He stood from his chair. “Why are you killing Thayer? I messed up, not him.”

“It’s my game,” she stated coldly. “Last chance. Who is the most irritating person?”

Asa glowered at her, then dropped his shoulders and sat in his chair. He looked at the board. “Mikail. Okay?”

Tension melted off her shoulders. Finally. She took the weapon from Thayer’s arms, and watched Asa watch from the corner of his eyes.

“And your favorite color?”

“Maroon.”

“Good,” she replied. He had it down, effortlessly. She looked at Thayer. “What is your favorite color?”

“Maroon,” he said after a small second, not much of a struggle.

Blue eyes or not, Asa was a born leader too. He might not see it yet, but she could.

She glanced at Brendan. She hated doing this, but she suspected he had the lies ready for her.

“Do you wish I had kissed you?” she asked.

He looked at Neron.

That was unexpected. It wasn’t like Asa and Thayer, the look was more. It was the look she had given Rhyss a thousand times – I see you, I wish you saw me.

“No,” he said to her.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” she asked.

In Sylem, being gay was illegal. She had lived her life knowing it was illegal, bad, wrong. Looking at Brendan, if loving someone – even Neron – was the only good feeling he ever experienced, she hoped he reveled in it.

“No,” he replied.

“Is there anyone you want to kiss?” she asked.

His jaw clenched and his face turned an interesting shade of purple-red. He was silent, silent for long enough that the class was a bit curious.

“No,” he stated.

That was enough. She wasn’t there to ruin his life; she liked Brendan.

“Do you like Thackery or Jayden better?” she asked.

His face relaxed.

“I want you to lie to me,” she instructed.

“The same,” Brendan stated.

It was a lie, at least.

“I will save one of their lives,” she pressed. “Who do you like better?”

“I like them the same. Can’t we just kill Asa?”

She laughed inside, at his passion and his quips. At all their quips. They all were under an unimaginable amount of stress and still managed to joke, even with death looming over their shoulder.

“They both die,” she said instead. She kept walking and stopped in front of Neron.

Brendan stared at her, and it was the most real threat she had been given since she arrived there. A threat he would never be able to act on, or act on without punishment, but he felt it.

“Neron. What is your favorite color.”

Brendan settled.

“I don’t have a favorite color that isn’t maroon,” he said, twisting his words.

“What do you think of the ceiling?” she asked. “The correct answer is that it’s breathtakingly beautiful.”

Neron stared at his desk and focused. “It’s breathtakingly…” he breathed in and out, slow and low. “Beautiful.”

“Osmund,” she said. “You are only allowed to dream about dogs. What do you dream about?”

“Dogs.”

“Good,” she said.

The door opened and Cecil came in, arms full. Another man, with thick brown hair and who was, in most ways, an older Asa, came in.

“Class,” she said. “What is your favorite color?”

“Maroon,” the room repeated back to her.

“What do you dream about?”

“Dogs,” the said again.

Cecil set the supplies down and pulled bags off his arms.

“Who is the most irritating person in class? The new answer is Cecil.”

The class said Cecil, which earned a genuine smile from him. It may have been the first smile she had ever seen. The guy that was with him laughed as he left the room.

“Well done,” Cecil said.

She looked at Cecil. “I’m not sure how many were lying on the last one,” she joked.

“It’s my job to irritate them,” Cecil replied.

It was.

Emily walked toward the back of the room. “One of you has a sword to cut the pizza slices that have melted back together with, and one of you has an axe to serve pieces with. This is a team assignment, execute it well.”

“You’re not killing us?” Thackery asked.

“No, you’re my servers,” she replied.

Jayden exhaled loudly, “Okay.

She watched Thackery deflate beside him and the two moved the the front of the room.

The party had begun.

She helped the boys get things set up: games where they would be blindfolded and wrapped with streamers, balloon throwing and hitting games, and an obstacle course with their desks to be used however they liked. She put their names on each of the notebooks and wrote a prompt for each of them on the first page – to draw or write a story about a word she wrote. She wanted them to know joy could come from within.

After a few minutes, she found her way to Cecil. She leaned against the tall counter that marked his desk. “I think lying will come easily now.”

“You did well.” He watched the class as they ate pizza and laughed at each other. “Who broke first?”

“Asa,” she said. It may have been a lie; Osmund had lied first. She wasn’t sure if he had broken, though. The correct answer was Asa, she suspected. She watched his face – satisfied with her response. “Before I threatened Thayer, better after.”

It was becoming clear that Asa was the metric others would have to follow. If he could do worse, others would look better. Osmund had skills to offer and she hoped they would shine later, when it mattered more than today.

“We may have to use Thayer as collateral to motivate him,” Cecil said.

He talked like they were in on this together. Emily felt gross for being part of this, for crossing lines that she had promised she wouldn’t cross – and been assured she wouldn’t have to – when she joined.

“Two of your best students have attachments,” she told him, curious if he knew.

If he didn’t before, he would know after he watched the video. Seeing his reaction was information she needed.

“Who else?” Cecil asked.

“Did you record us?” she asked.

“Yes, we always do.”

“Then you don’t need me to tell you.” She bit into her pizza. She missed pizza. Pizza, chocolates, donuts, Rhyss, hope…

When she ended the pregnancy, would he forgive her?

“I haven’t watched the video yet,” Cecil stated.

Impatient… another thing to keep note of.

“Brendan,” she told him.

Cecil studied Brendan in silence.

“His is different from Asa’s,” Cecil said.

“Yes. He will be your best liar,” she pointed out.

“We have managed to find someone capable of having powerful children. Smart, almost deathproof children. Who do you think should father them?”

“What do you want from them?” Emily asked, sick to her stomach.

“To lead an army of other deathproof children. Against an enemy.”

“Asa,” she said, because it was the right answer and because Asa was a born leader.

“How do you feel about Brendan?” he asked.

“Fine. Why?”

She didn’t want to give away her attachment to him; she liked other boys in the class too, he just felt closest to her, like a son in some ways.

“You grew up in Sylem. You don’t mind his preferences?”

“No,” she said. Not in this context.

Cecil took a bite of pizza. “I’ll try to keep him alive for you,” he said as he walked away.

“All of them, would be nice,” she replied.

“All would be nice,” he said, agreeing for once – somehow.

Cecil was too much of puzzle. She needed time to sort him out, more experiences. She didn’t have much time.

Instead, she focused on Brendan and the way he had looked at Neron. Any day, either or both could die. She didn’t care, as it turned out, she just wanted to make sure Brendan – and the other boys – felt supported in the lives they were given.

He was standing on the side of some of the games, next to the caramels. She loves the chance to spoil any of them with things they should have been used to.

Beside him, she could see his view of Neron. He watched as others layered streamers around Neron.

“You did well,” Emily told Brendan. “Enjoying the caramels?”

She had one of her own, the sweet tangy taste coating her tongue in memories of days when she was more free.

“Yeah, you’re the best. How did you talk him into it?”

She watched Cecil as he talked to some of the boys. She couldn’t figure him out. “I don’t know yet. But.” She cleaned closer and whispered into Brendan’s ear. “He’s softer than he wants you to think, don’t forget that.”

Brendan threw his head back a tiny bit, “That’s why there’s ten of us instead of a hundred.”

She needed to remember that, but she needed to know what had changed to make Cecil soften. When it had changed.

“Is Neron the first?” she asked Brendan.

He hesitated, then looked at her. “Yeah.”

“I won’t tell anyone. But, you should tell him.”

She couldn’t believe she was suggesting Brendan pursue a gay relationship. Still, he deserved happiness.

In the face of very little life left, her opinion on right and wrong had shifted from a limited view to something a bit more flexible. Brendan wasn’t hurting anyone by liking Neron, and he probably wouldn’t live long enough to have kids anyway.

“He probably knows,” Brendan replied. “I shouldn’t have looked at him when you asked that, it was weak. He knows, and he’s over there.”

“So go talk to him,” she urged.

“Maybe.” He watched Neron, who was wrapped in streamers so his legs were bound, his arms behind him, and his eyes blindfolded. He was trying to cross the room the fastest, with Osmund and Therrien beside him.

“It won’t hurt,” Emily said. It hadn’t hurt to talk to Rhyss. “I bet he hasn’t had caramels before.”

Without hesitation, Brendan scooped a handful out of the bag and put them in his pocket. “I’ll try.”

She watched him go over to Neron. Ten boys here, almost all if not all facing death soon. Three boys down a few halls, alive after multiple other lives. One boy, and one girl, inside of her…

This was a place of death; this was a place of stealing.

She had weeks, three dozen at most, to get them out. If she killed them, they’d just be forced to have new lives like the three boys.

She ate a truffle and a caramel in one bite. She didn’t know which way to turn. She would have to act soon, though. She walked passed the pizzas and picked up the last ingredient: a sprig of basil.

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