The Way

by Mary E. Twomey

  “I should hope so. I’ll take your most aged meat with the foulest smelling sauce you have. Anything that would kill an A-word,” Beth instructed, nose in the air.

  Pink Scarf and Purple Scarf gave the cocky Fem disapproving looks, but said nothing.

  “Now, now,” Professor Standwicke protested, his eyes taking in the young waitress’ submissive stance. “There’s no need to speak to her like that.”

  Lawrence’s fist gripped his fork more tightly. “I’ll thank you not to use that kind of language, Beth. We haven’t given you the green light, yet. Peace Week’s about harmony, not bigotry.”

  Beth shut her mouth tight, ignoring the frustrated looks her group shot her. The men in the troupe placed their requests more respectfully, given Lawrence’s glower.

  Blue left quickly to put in the orders. The kitchen door swung shut behind her, giving her new freedom to breathe. “Hey Grettel, do people call us A-words a lot? Or is it just the ones who want their food sneezed on?” Blue handed the order sheet to the girl.

  Grettel smiled. The thought of such a devious act was so unbelievably delicious, the mere prospect scared her. “Not all the time, but I’ve heard it from the ones you’d expect. It’s not a nice word. The good Vemreaux don’t talk like that.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Blue pressed her ear to the door, and could hear the rehearsal picking back up. She knew Baird would not approve of her being so visible, but her brother was kilometers away. Blue exited the kitchen and plastered herself to the wall inconspicuously to find out what the actors had yet to say about the world she still knew so little about.

  Beth twirled a lock of black hair on the end of her red-painted fingernail as she began her speech, using it to hone in the men’s attention. “After World War Three, when those ruling the world unleashed dozens of nuclear bombs at each other, destroying the lands they so viciously fought to protect, the increasing number of Vemreaux decided to reveal themselves. The Middle East, much of Asia, Central and North America had been decimated overnight. Asia endured significant land damage that still has not been smoothed over in rural areas.”

  The Assistant to the American Emperor interrupted Beth with a raised finger. “Please strike that last sentence from the speech. I’m fairly certain that King Sinclair will not want mention of any lack of progress.”

  Beth nodded and continued. “Much of the land that was historically fit for inhabiting was permanently damaged with radiation from the blasts. Homes were lost, family lines ended. It was no wonder the inferior blood types didn’t put up much of a fight when we came into power. The rulers who commanded the launch of these horrendous bombs were quickly slaughtered.”

  The assistant raised his finger again, this time earning a frown from Beth. “Slaughtered implies that we were inhumane or acted in a way that was not to keep the greater peace. Can we agree on ‘disposed of’?”

  Beth nodded, making a note. “Most of the countries in the world were in disarray and in desperate need of order and an honest face to look up to. The Vemreaux gave them that. Politicians used to be untrustworthy. Now we all love our leaders.” She beamed at the mayor and the emperor’s assistant.

  Blue felt like vomiting. Or laughing. She couldn’t decide which.

  Daniel stood next to Beth and joined in. “Automatic weapons were immediately destroyed. Bombs and all the guns in the world were sought out with our keen senses and immediately done away with.”

  Beth brought the focus back to her, annoyed at having to split the attention. “The number of our superior race was such that we now possessed the power to corral all humans of inferior blood types into prison camps, so they could pay for their war crimes. That’s when King Sinclair and his team of scientists discovered that filtered O-type blood could stave off anemia in the changed Vemreaux. The O-blood types’ payment for having their basic necessities met is a reasonable donation of half a pint of blood every eight weeks. The work camps became happy places of education and personal fulfillment, most people volunteering to lock themselves in there for the promise of food, water, shelter and a life away from war and radiation. The O-bloods who refused to leave their war-torn homes were killed and used to feed the need of the Vemreaux. Their blood was filtered and dispersed to the war heroes.”

  “Strike that whole last part from the speech,” the assistant instructed. “No need to dwell on unpleasantness at a worldwide celebration. And they’re not prison camps. They’re schools. Big difference, young lady.”

  Blue soaked in every syllable, memorizing how the Vemreaux rationalized their own war crimes to themselves. She did not even realize that her feet carried her slowly closer to the action.

  Beth droned on. “A-blood types were separated from the other mortals and placed in areas that would later be called The Way. The superior Vemreaux could have done away with the useless blood type altogether, as we had when we purged out the rarer types that held less ability to quench our thirst for iron. However, we pride ourselves on being fairer than the mixed bloods that ran governments before we came to power, so even though their blood makes us ill, the A-bloods were permitted life, just like the other inferior O-types. They serve their purpose by providing cheap labor and the occasional human test subjects that are always filled with volunteers.”

  Lawrence gestured to Beth with his mug of coffee. “You give that long of a speech without mention of the predator, people’ll boo you off the stage. I don’t care how short you wear your skirt.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “That’s all anyone wants to talk about anymore.”

  Pink Scarf took his index fingers and put them to his lips like fangs and hissed, earning a disapproving scowl from Beth.

  Daniel’s part of the speech meant that Beth had to stand there patiently and wait, which she could not do without conveying her annoyance. She puffed out her cleavage to silently take back some of the attention.

  Daniel projected his voice without having to command it to do so. “Beginning its plot of terror, the predator began stealthily snatching a few of the local Vemreaux, but not returning them for months. The deaths were first listed as missing person’s reports, but then their bodies were discovered later with vital organs gone, skin torn to shreds or removed, and their bodies drained of blood. The numbers are still increasing. Though the O-blood island contains many smaller vacation islands famed for their beauty, tourism has slowed to the area. None have seen the predator with their own eyes and lived to tell the tale.”

  “I don’t like where this is going,” Mayor David protested. “This is supposed to be a celebration of our history, not a time to scare people. Give them a day without the predator splashing the headlines.”

  “No predator talk at all? That seems disingenuous. It’s all people gossip about these days,” commented Lawrence.

  “Fine, but shorten it a bit. I don’t want to hear about filleted bodies while I’m drinking my martini, and I’m guessing I won’t be the only one.”

  Daniel nodded while Beth scowled. His male voice carried through the quiet establishment, captivating Blue and the diners. “More than a decade ago, a Vemreaux named Hank Manneclaken Cho readied himself to go into the everlasting waters. When Hank came out of the Fountain of Youth with his twelve decade life extension, it was not with the same black eyes and heightened senses we all enjoy. He was struck with blindness when his foot left the waters. His green eyes turned to the beloved Lucinda Vemreaux’s vivid blue as others watched him in horror fumble around for a writing implement and scrawl on the nearest wall.”

  Blue’s heart dropped into her stomach, as it often did when people quoted the prophecy around her. The tiny hairs on her arms rose to attention as she stood unnaturally still and straight.

  Pink Scarf lurked at Daniel’s side, breaking out his theatrically deep voice and rolling his eyes back as if he was possessed. “There is a Light born who will put an end to the tyranny. The Light will not rest until the world has been brought to peace. The Vemreaux will bow before the Way
ward who leads them into battle for the sake of harmony. She will strike down the predator and make the ultimate sacrifice.”

  And there it was. Blue swallowed hard. The bitterness of the prophecy brought a bad taste to her mouth and threatened to choke the life from her. She shouldered the gall with grace, standing in the background as they unknowingly talked about her.

  Beth shoved Pink Scarf and resumed the speech, which was now beginning to lose the attention of the important men. “As soon as he finished writing on the wall, Hank’s eyes immediately turned to black. Hi. His sight came back to him, but he was unaware of his actions that produced what would now be the prophecy all Vemreaux hang their hopes on. It was said that Hank was blessed with the spirit of Francis David Vemreaux’s now deceased wife, Lucinda, who lived out her days in blindness even after her blue eyes turned to black.” She still held Blue’s attention, demonstrated by the gasp that the waitress emitted at Beth’s words.

  Mayor David Anders stood, drawing the attention of the thespians. “That’s why Peace Day is that much more important this year. The parades in the past have sometimes lasted for days, bringing out the crowds like nothing else can. Add finding the Light to that, and you’ve got yourself a party that’ll last maybe weeks.”

  Lawrence nodded. “Lot of businesses around here need that kind of boost.”

  Mayor David agreed. “It would really help my approval ratings to find the Light on my watch. The Way West guaranteed me five decent candidates from their facility. Testing’s starting tomorrow.”

  Professor Standwicke looked up from the worn textbooks that captured his attention several minutes ago. “I thought that was happening Friday.”

  “No element of surprise if the Light has time to prepare. The real Light should be ready at a moment’s notice if she’s to go up against the predator.”

  Blue swallowed and took a meek step back, dipping her chin again to obscure her face. She was always ready to fulfill her destiny, but would never be ready at the same time. Even as she served the actors their meals, her mind did not wander from the testing other Wayward girls would be subjected to because she could not come forward. She was nearly invisible to the diners, which was exactly how she knew Baird preferred it.

  The one patron who did notice her motioned her to his side. Professor Leander Standwicke Anders scarcely had room for his plate with all the textbooks that surrounded him. “Would you mind giving me a hand with some of these? It looks like we’re just about out of time, and I’d like to spread these on a table, if I could.”

  “Yes, sir, professor.” Blue gingerly lifted the large stack of books, thrilling at how close she was to the new knowledge. She wondered why the books were so thick, and what undiscovered treasures could possibly be hiding inside.

  “Stand. I go by Stand. Leander Standwicke Anders is a mouthful.”

  “Yes, sir, Professor Stand.”

  “Now, it’s just us here. I don’t know about you, but all this ‘sir’ nonsense that some Vemreaux require doesn’t work for me. How about I call you…” He looked at her nametag. “Blue? Is that right? And you call me Stand.” He hoped to get some sort of a reaction, but she merely nodded. He’d never intimidated anyone before. The very notion made Stand uncomfortable. When this particular Vemreaux was nervous, he found it impossible to keep his mouth from running.

  Blue stood silently, staring at her feet as he told her the history of the University down to the moldings, listed each of the school’s presidents that he’d taught under, his favorite subjects to teach, and a few memorable students. He laughed to himself at one particular story that had a newly changed Vemreaux running around to seven different classrooms until he sat down in Stand’s Logic class, only to stand up an hour into the session and ask in a confused voice, “This isn’t Biology?” Blue found the story amusing, but she would not offer up more than a simple smile, which he could not see through her thick hair.

  “Did you catch the speeches and the play?” he asked, realizing that the woman had been completely silent for five minutes.

  Blue nodded.

  “It’s a lot to take in.”

  She made sure her stance was perfectly submissive.

  “I imagine that’s a lot more detail than you got in The Way. Do you have any questions? Sit down, please.”

  Blue shook her head silently, wondering why the professor was being so nice. The tall, light-haired Vemreaux had a studious build to him that suggested book study as opposed to outdoor sports. He’d chosen to be frozen at thirty, which made him look far more experienced than she.

  Her gaze lifted to the half dozen books he had stacked up on the table. She debated the wisdom of lingering out in the open with a diner, but they were largely ignored by the other men, who were still discussing the details of Beth’s speech. She’d witnessed Elle sitting with a table occasionally, laughing and joking with her sparkle that was always on. Blue didn’t see any real harm in permitting a one-way conversation with the nice man.

  Stand motioned to the books. “I’m also the head of the Math department, and we’re getting new curricula in for a few of the classes. I’m reviewing some of the old textbooks to see if any are still usable with the new lesson plans.” He took in her timid demeanor and softened further, smile faltering at her training. “Are you a student at the University?”

  Blue’s brow furrowed. “No, professor, sir. I’m Wayward.”

  “Then you don’t have to call me ‘professor’. I’m just Stand here.” He sipped his water carefully. “And being Wayward doesn’t mean that you can’t attend University.”

  Blue raised her eyebrow as he set his glass down. “How many Waywards are enrolled?”

  Stand chuckled. “She speaks!” he exclaimed, but immediately regretted it. He watched her wince and bury her face behind her hair even more. “You got me there. We don’t have any yet, but it’s still open to anyone. Do you want to go to University?”

  Blue had never been asked that question before. His words pounded around inside of her until she forced them to quiet. “I was bought for the diner. I’m a waitress, sir.”

  “Stand,” he corrected. “And please sit. Unless you have something else to do. Keep an old man company for a minute.”

  Blue looked around, making sure absolutely nothing needed to be tended to. Drinks were all full, the Vemreaux were barely beginning their meals, and the rest of the diner was ready for the day’s crowd. The real kicker was that Baird was still gone. She knew he would not approve of her silently sinking down into the chair opposite Stand, but sit she did so anyway, relishing the rush of rebellion.

  “Thank you.” Stand looked relieved to have drawn her so thoroughly in. “And we have plenty of waitresses who attend. You’re presuming that cleaning up and feeding people isn’t as important as being a student, but I highly disagree. Without a tidy space, learning is difficult. Cleaning is the precursor to learning for a lot of people. What you’re doing is, to some, more important than how many times I go over my notes that I’ve taught twelve times already.”

  “Are you seriously telling me that taking out the trash is more important than knowledge?”

  Stand’s obsidian eyes sparked with the thrill of a new debate. He further pushed his opinion about the nobility of taking pride in a clean building, but Blue was not convinced.

  “Well,” she responded, realizing she’d been baited into having a conversation with the Vemreaux, “no one’s gonna give you a diploma for serving drinks.”

  “Is that what you want, Blue?” His voice softened as her name rolled through his lips. “Do you want to earn a diploma?”

  Her brow furrowed, the questions confusing her. “I didn’t say anything like that. I’m A-blood. I’m not going to go to a Vemreaux school.”

  “People fear possibilities more than impossibilities. Possibility means there’s something to be risked. Impossibility means it’s not their fault things never change.”

  The words hung in the air between them.


  “Your owner can’t forbid you from going to school, Blue. It’s against the law. Emperor Anders is a good leader. His rules make more possibilities for A-bloods.” Blue did not respond, so Stand continued. “My father told me that if I wanted to go to school, I’d have to get a job and pay for it myself. When I was nineteen, that seemed impossible, but I got a job and slowly chipped away at an education.” He paused solemnly. “This diner isn’t all the real world has to offer.”

  “I thought you said waitressing was noble work.” The corner of Blue’s mouth lifted when he didn’t have an immediate response.

  Caught in his own logic, Stand put his hands up in surrender. “You got me,” he admitted.

  His need for her to look at him was so obvious that Blue almost lifted her head to acknowledge him, but thought better of it. She was there to work, not to make friends. Stand was making it difficult to be invisible, and if she paid him more attention, she was sure others would take notice of her presence, as well.

  “So how do you like working at Joe’s?” he asked, hoping a change of topic to a lighter subject would loosen her up.

  She shrugged. “S’okay.” Her generic answer was multi-purpose and applied to almost anything. She used the succinct response whenever possible.

  Her brief answers did not deter conversation as she intended, but rather spurred on Stand’s verbose nature. “It must be nice to work with your brother.”

  “How’d you know Baird’s my brother?” she questioned cautiously.

  “I come in here every now and then. Baird runs a good restaurant. Asked him who he was getting to replace Valerie, and he said his master was buying his sister.”

  “Oh.”

  “So are you glad you get to work with him?”

  “S’okay.”

  “I have three sisters, all older. You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but I’m the baby of the family. We’re all blonds, not with pretty hair like yours.”

  Blue hid her grimace at his compliment. No one referred to her as pretty except for Elle and Grettel, and she was positive they only said those nice things to be kind. Blue judged that Stand must also be unnecessarily sweet to the point of fibbing.