The Way

by Mary E. Twomey

  In her periphery, Blue could see Baird through the thin screen of the back door. The familiar black snaked its way into her vision, but she fought to regain control. She waited for Baird to nod, and then reached down to her side. “Here,” she whispered, her balled-up hand shaking. “It’s all I have.” Of course, Blue had no money, but Mosely reached for her fist all the same.

  Once he was close enough, Blue snatched his outstretched hand and yanked him forward. The surprise in his eyes was nothing compared to the agony that swept across him when she pulled his arm out of its socket and delivered a swift kick to his groin. She’d always ruled that one as a cheap shot, but didn’t resent its use this time so much since they were bent on robbing a slave girl who had yet to be given a single possession. The action thrilled her, exciting each of her nerves in a chorus of brutality. Rarely had she been able to fight so uninhibited without losing her mind to the blackouts.

  If this was to be her first scrap with a Vemreaux, she would be sure to win it.

  Baird moved like a shadow. He quickly and silently maneuvered the tall Aaron into a chokehold, taking him down without being seen by his victim.

  Blue focused her strength on Mosely. He was bent over in pain and confusion, so Blue took her opportunity. She cuffed him on the nape of his neck and shoved the crown of his head hard into the concrete wall, grimacing at the sickening crack it made.

  Blue stilled even as Baird brought the grand prize to his knees right next to her. Using her strength was exhilarating; her muscles thrilled at finally having their moment of action. In that same moment, her conscience ached, taking a worse beating than Mosely as she looked down at the destruction.

  Restraint. Control. Cover.

  Killing was something she’d grown to accept as her fate. The prophecy that foretold her fight to the death gave that much away. In The Way, the A-blood types were fragile. Their bones shattered under her capable hands, so she had to practice superior self-control at all times. Now she was in the real world. The Vemreaux – those with B-type blood – had bones that were far more difficult to break, though the punishment for assaulting one of the superior race was swift and harsh.

  If you were caught.

  Blue never dreamed she’d roughen her hands and toughen her soul so quickly upon her purchase. Yet, here lay Mosely, looking defeated and not-so-dearly departed at her feet. He was a stranger who made the mistake of robbing the wrong person, and would never live to repeat the folly.

  The adrenaline ebbed, and her hands tingled with regret and terror. Fingers that wanted to do schoolwork and help her family mutated into violent weapons that could not be matched. Nineteen was young, but standing over Mosely, willing her legs not to shake, she felt ancient, doomed…and tired. Always tired.

  Aaron lay without breath on the floor of the hut with Baird towering over him. His head was turned at an unnatural angle, and Blue guessed that Baird broke the Vemreaux’s neck to assure ultimate victory.

  Baird eyed Mosely, and then grabbed hold of his sister’s arm. “See that, Blue? He’s still breathing. Your job was to kill him, not give him brain damage.” He smirked at her, but sobered once he took in Blue’s petrified stare and quaking limbs. “You did the hard part already. Now finish the job.” When his sister did not move to obey, his grip on her softened. “This is what you were meant for.”

  Dread engulfed her when his words coupled with her deeds. The onyx vapor crept into her sight once more. She trembled as she fought to control it. Her lower lip shook, but her eyes remained dry. Mortified at her weakness, Blue choked out a whisper before she degraded herself further. “No, Baird. P-Please don’t make me do this. I…I don’t think I can stop the dark from taking over.”

  Victory vanished, and Baird assumed the cold and detached face he often used when giving her unpleasant tutorials. “You’re not ready,” he stated, daring her to stand under the weight of his disappointment. “I thought you were. Sit down until you’re under control. I’ll finish it.”

  Guilt fell hard on Blue’s shoulders as she bore his displeasure in silence at his feet. Heavy was Baird’s stony stare and weighted were his words as he showed his sister how to suffocate an incapacitated man. Of course she knew how. It was simple. She’d seen Baird snuff the life out of a few Waywards in the same manner. She just couldn’t will her hands to so thoroughly destroy. Blue nodded hollowly as Baird explained that killing was not a joy, but a job. The girls were his responsibility, and he was the only one who would protect them and their humble way of life. Blue was supposed to add to that protection, not run from her duty.

  The trick to killing was to end the foe as quick as possible. There was no room for a fair fight, chivalry, or mercy. If someone needed to die, there was no use beating around the bush. Just beat them about the head and be done with it.

  He did not look at her as he rose, but instead pulled from his pocket a dated phone and punched in eight digits. “Lawrence, it’s Baird. I’ve got two deliveries for you at the hut.” He grunted twice more, and then hung up, still keeping his eyes from his sister. “No more black?”

  “It’s gone,” she informed him, ashamed. “I’m sorry, Baird.” When he did not answer, she gave herself a few more minutes before speaking. “Who’s Lawrence?”

  “Lawrence is a regular at the diner. He drinks for free and holds his business meetings at the restaurant. In return, he takes care of the bodies for us.”

  “How often does this happen, Baird?”

  “Once every couple months. Not too often. But it has to be dealt with the same way every time. They come for us, we kill them. Quiet and quick.” He pocketed his phone and crossed the hardened muscles of his arms over his stone of a heart. “Then Lawrence deals with the bodies. We get caught with them, we get arrested and then killed after the ‘fair’ trial. A Vemreaux like Lawrence is connected. He gets caught with a body, he can claim self-defense and it’s overlooked.”

  “How does he do it? I mean, there’s no scratch pit for the bodies to decompose in undetected.”

  “He owns concrete and construction companies, a few boats. Sometimes he throws the bodies in a giant freezer to throw off time of death to make sure nothing gets traced back to us. He’s smart, rich and well-connected. His job to figure out how to get rid of them. My job to hand them over in a bag.” He pulled out a roll of thick black plastic from under the sink. “These bags.”

  “He does all that for free drinks?”

  Baird smirked as he pulled his sister to her feet. “You haven’t tried my Green Abby shots. They’re barter-worthy. Lawrence doesn’t like the system and wants to clean up the streets. Thieves are bad for business. I help him out with that when I can.”

  “So, just like that?”

  “Quiet and quick,” he repeated. “Most Vemreaux turn a blind eye to how slaves are treated, but there are always sympathizers. Not everyone wants A-bloods in The Way. Find the right one, ply him with his vice, and you’ve got a two-man crew.”

  “It’s that simple?”

  “The more complicated a plan is, the more ways it can fall apart.”

  Blue’s hand was still trembling, so she crossed her arms to give herself the hug she wished she didn’t need.

  Baird rummaged through Mosely’s pants and dug out his keys. “We don’t get robbed too often, but there’s the occasional bar fight at the diner. When that happens, find Lawrence and pretend to be useless. Gather the girls and stay with him. He doesn’t know who you really are, so he’ll try to protect you. Let him.”

  “Baird, I don’t need anyone to protect me,” Blue protested with a frown.

  “Says the girl who couldn’t finish the job.” Baird motioned to the men on the floor. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she murmured, glancing to the bodies at her feet.

  Chapter Five

  Home Sweet Hut

  Age of Peace Law 11, Subset 2c

  Vemreaux owning Waywards must provide them with lodging according to code
27a. Vemreaux are not required to fraternize or live with their slaves.

  Lawrence assured Baird that he would remove the bodies before daybreak, so the next job was to make sure the girls were okay. Blue followed her brother outside. She was careful to give the two dead Vemreaux in plastic bags a wide berth as she exited the hut.

  Baird disappeared down into the cellar that lay several meters from the hut. He pulled up the steel door and vanished into the hideaway. No sooner had he left Blue’s vision did a familiar face pop up out of the hole like a groundhog. “Blue!” shouted Elle.

  “Elle!” Blue tried to exclaim the joy she felt, but her throat had gone dry. Blue ached at the sight of her best friend. Elle was ever herself – tall, gorgeous blonde hair, strong and lean, with a smile that lit up the night sky. Her stained, threadbare undershirt and plain shorts did not detract from her beauty, but somehow made it stand out even more.

  The hug was without hesitation, like two puzzle pieces parted for far too long. It had been over a year since she’d held her friend. Most people that left The Way were never seen again. They gripped each other as Elle squealed over and over the extremes of her enthusiasm, her smile breaking up the intensity of the night.

  “You’re here! You’re here!” she crooned, kissing Blue’s cheeks and hair. “I missed you so much!” Elle squeezed her around the ribs. “Those stupid Vems! I can’t believe they did something like this your first day here!”

  A second figure came timidly out of the cellar, head darting every which way nervously. “Blue?” Grettel always spoke with a note of fear, her voice tiny. Baird nudged her out, and though she wanted to run toward her friend, she was too shaken to be more than a few meters from Baird’s protection.

  Grettel’s russet eyes sparkled with moisture as she joined the entanglement of limbs. Blue and Elle welcomed her to the hug, and the three giggled and cooed over each other, noting the changes just one year played on each of them. “I missed you so much!” Grettel sobbed.

  “I’m here now! Your hair! It’s shorter! I can’t believe you cut it!” Blue marveled at the short brown hair that was cropped unevenly around Grettel’s face. “It’s so cute!”

  “You can cut your hair whenever you want in the real world, Blue,” Grettel explained through her tears.

  “So cool! And Elle, you look taller or something.”

  “Nope. Just more beautiful,” Elle commented churlishly. “That’s my curse. More gorgeous every year. Good thing we only missed out on a year. You might not recognize me if you waited much longer.”

  Blue laughed, ignoring her brother’s rolled eyes. The girls laughed and chatted at such an accelerated pace that an onlooker may have needed a translation guide to cut through all the inside jokes and half-verbalized sentiments that held whole truths in their hearts.

  It was only when Baird cleared his throat that the three were reminded of the pace held by the rest of the world. The embrace broke, but they still found a way to remain connected. Elle linked her arm possessively through Blue’s, and Blue held onto Grettel’s thin hand.

  It had been a year Blue had lived without the shy pixie, and every day she felt the absence of the thing that kept her warm heart from freezing over. “Do you like your new house?” Grettel asked sheepishly.

  “Are you kidding? Does it smell like scratch?” Blue wore a giddy grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  Grettel shook her head, smiling.

  “This is the only house on the whole road! Does Master Joe own it all?” Blue was grateful the girls would not tire of her questions. Baird was never so generous with her rare moments of incompetence. “And the grass is different here. Do you have a garden? Like a real Vemreaux garden with flowers, or is it just a food garden like in The Way?”

  “Inside,” Baird commanded. He’d moved the bodies out the back door already, so as not to upset the sensitive Grettel.

  Blue caught the hint of her brother’s suppressed smile when Elle’s index finger tickled his ribs discreetly. She noticed that he did not grumble or glare at her, as he’d done most of the time when she’d tried to cozy up to him in The Way. Blue grinned even more widely that her brother had finally gotten some sense concerning the blonde who never relented in her pursuit of him.

  The familiar scent of scratch that Blue brought into the hut was replaced with urine-soaked air. Elle and Grettel both groaned at the damage the two intruders had done in such a short time. One of them peed all over the east wall. The other lost bowel control when he died. All of the cupboards had been rifled through. Their clothes were in disarray.

  Baird’s anger was in check, though still evident on his features in the form of a scowl as he moved past the girls to the kitchen. “Let’s start with the walls.” Wetting a few discolored rags with soapy water, he handed them out to each of them. “You can show her around when we’re done. Grettel, start with washing the floor.” Baird interrupted Blue and Elle’s chatter with business. “In case I’m not here the next time this happens, Blue, here’s how this works. After I call Lawrence, I put the lowlife bodies in a black trash bag, drag them out back and put them in the garden box marked ‘compost’. Lawrence’ll come by in an hour or two and pick them up.”

  Elle groaned. “Could we please put a hold on your lessons for one day? She just got here! A couple hours out of The Way and she’s already cleaning piss off the walls and learning how to get rid of bodies. Grrr-oss!” She flipped her golden hair over her shoulder. Elle was always good at lightening a dismal mood. “Tell me you didn’t make her kill those guys on her first day out.”

  Blue shook her head, speaking for her brother. “It’s fine, Elle. I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

  “Okay?” Elle scoffed, motioning to her curves. “I’d say I’m doing more than okay.” Somehow she made disgusting housework look glamorous.

  They all scrubbed as Baird filled them in on the details of Blue’s purchase. Elle made the most of every nuance to the story, settling for nothing less than an absolutely Technicolor mental picture of the event. It was a welcome distraction to the less than amazing homecoming the vandals delivered.

  “Buying her wasn’t all that different from buying you,” Baird assured Elle, exasperated from talking so much. “Except for that stupid, overbearing professor, Jack. He was a pain.”

  “He was fine, Baird. It’s okay that he’s thorough. It’s kind of a big deal to purchase a slave.”

  “Incompetence pains me. So yes, Jack was a pain.”

  “Oh, brother.” Blue huffed as she shook her head. She’d been taught by him to keep her hair forward to cover her vibrantly blue eyes, but in the privacy of the hut, it was not necessary. She could be a real person without hiding, even if it was only behind closed doors. Today, her true self felt like sassing her brother, so she used the isolation of the hut to her advantage. “You’re a pain.”

  “Good one.” Baird snorted as he threw his soiled rag in the sink.

  “Um, Griffin was there at Blue’s purchase. That’s different,” Elle argued. “How’d he take it?”

  “Fine, Griffin was there. He’ll survive. The whole thing took longer than it should have. Big deal. She’s here now, cleaning piss off the wall, just like us, living our grand dream.” Baird sighed when he caught a hurt look from Grettel.

  “Man, Baird,” Elle said as she glared at him. “Stop being such a grump. You didn’t have to kill those Vemreaux. You coulda called the police.”

  “That’s a great idea. We’ll try that next time.” Baird rolled his eyes. “How about you show her the house while I finish up. See if anything else was damaged.”

  “Excellent idea, slave,” Elle kidded as she stood.

  “Here, take these, slave,” Baird handed her the rest of the filthy rags, suppressing his amusement.

  Elle hugged Blue once she scrubbed her hands clean of the urine stench. Elle donned her most dazzling smile. She acted as spokesperson for the household since Baird was not prone to idle chatter, and Grettel was too int
roverted to take the attention on herself for a prolonged period of time.

  The entire shack was comprised of two rooms: the bathroom and everything else. The living room, bedroom and kitchen were all open, separated only by a single post in the center of the structure running from ceiling to floor (which no doubt existed to keep the sagging roof from collapsing down on their heads at the first sign of a stiff breeze). In this instance, it was a good thing that there was not much surface area to clean.

  “So, this is the couch.” Elle’s fingers rested on the silver tape that kept the pale green cushions from further splitting. “Can you believe we found it in some Vemreaux’s trash? All it needed was a good cleaning and some tape. With it pushed up against the beam like this, it’s easier to imagine that this is a whole separate room from the kitchen. Baird sleeps there, but during the day, we all can sit on it.” She demonstrated the usefulness of the object by lazily flopping on it, undoing the top button of her jean shorts and miming a can of blood beer in her hand. Then she picked up an imaginary remote control and began flicking through channels on a television that was not there. “See? We can pretend to be Vemreaux. Oh, slave!” Elle called over her shoulder. “This remote is tiresome. Change the channel for me and fetch me a cocktail.”

  Blue snorted a laugh and handed her friend an invisible drink. “Ever at your service.”

  Elle motioned to the mattress at her feet as she refastened her pants. “The bed is where Grettel and I sleep.” Her use of “bed” instead of mattress was purposeful. This was their home, and though money was not abundant, their imaginations were still theirs.

  The simple full-sized mattress was covered in a yellowed sheet that had once upon a purchase been white, and now sported a violent slash clear down the middle, making the reason for its abandonment to the trash perfectly obvious. A green sleeping bag rested unzipped like a comforter across the sheet. Grettel bent down and smoothed out the boot prints the destructive Vemreaux made during their intrusion.