Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. After just four days, our numbers have plummeted from twelve to six. As always, the trial room has been mysteriously scrubbed completely clean, and one wouldn’t know the other pyers had ever existed were it not for their empty chairs. After a few a-nya-ning comments from the virtual cat, the voting screen appears once more.
PICK A PLAYER
ID
Status
ID
Status
Dragon
IN
X
X
Snake
IN
X
X
Horse
IN
Rat
IN
X
X
Ox
IN
X
X
X
X
X
X
Rabbit
IN
The Rat restlessly shifts in his seat. His eyes dart between each and every one of us, as if expecting someone to leap over the table-bar and attack him.
The Rabbit, for once, is attentive; though she props up her head with her arms, her gaze is steady and lucid.
The Horse keeps bouncing one leg. When she catches my gaze, the leg stops, and she mumbles something apologetically.
The Ox tilts his chin up, bulky arms folded in front of him. Then, finally, the Dragon simply speaks.
“It’s time to begin the fourth trial, and to end it just as quick. We’ll go with the group survival pn—tie every vote during the trials, and the wolves will dispose of the others until there’s four pyers left. Any objections?”
The Rat stands and spits; a white foam thers the smooth tile floor.
“Is that an objection?” Dragon wonders, wringing his hands.
“Do I seem like some kinda frivolous guy that’d change his mind so easily?” Rat says, body all coiled up. His dark, beady eyes are as sharp as broken stones, and I muster my own courage as I push away my chair.
“I also object,” I call out. “Though I’m not going to spit; that’s just pin gross.”
At this, the Dragon simply nods. “You’re both free to vote whoever you like. But myself and the Rabbit will vote for the Rat, and Horse and Ox will cast their votes for you.”
“Whoever we like?’ That’s a good joke,” I mutter back.
Even if the Rat and I work together, the most we can do is tie the vote at 2-2-2, meaning that no one will be executed during the day, with the wolves picking us off during the next two nights. Saying that we can vote for “whoever we like” here is the same as saying we can vote for anyone in a rigged election: I can write down whatever name I want, however I want, put great effort into bubble letters, print, or ornate script, until the ballot is finally delivered and the talliers rip my sheet apart. There’s just no point to it.
“Snake, Rat, understand that this isn’t a statement on whether the wolves will choose to murder you. It’s just that we trust you two the least to abide by the pn; I’ll decide on the killings fairly when the time comes,” the Dragon concludes.
Oddly, the Rat doesn’t protest: perhaps he knows when he’s beat. But I still have one ace up my sleeve. “Don’t believe him, ‘Anna’—vote for the Dragon!” I call again.
The Horse sits at the chair directly to my left-hand side, and she’s thrust both her arms inside her track jacket pockets. Her face twists, and she cps her ears and cringes.
”Don’t shout…. you’re being too loud,” she murmurs.
The others look at me with varying degrees of exasperation, and I’m forced to hold my tongue. There’s nothing else I can say. In fact, there’s nothing else I could say.
I had already guessed that the Dragon would propose a 2-2-2 vote split pn. He must think the votes will be like this…
Dragon votes Rat.
Rabbit votes Rat.
Horse votes Snake.
Ox votes Snake.
Rat votes Dragon.
Snake votes Dragon.
…leading to a 2-2-2 tie where no one dies.
But, the Dragon doesn’t know that the Horse is wavering. And I had whispered her another pn, while I was together with her on the beach: that at the very end of the trial, right before time runs out, she should quietly change her vote to him.
With her betrayal, the final tally will be 1 vote Snake, 2 votes Rat, and 3 votes Dragon, sying him in a 3-2-1 vote like this!
Dragon votes Rat.
Rabbit votes Rat.
Horse votes Dragon.
Ox votes Snake.
Rat votes Dragon.
Snake votes Dragon.
But like I said, the Horse is only wavering—she’s yet to be won or lost either way. Her face is pale, and she itches at the stitches on her jacket’s right side. Then, she promptly clutches at her ponytail, pulling away strands of long brown hair.
“I don’t know if I can kill someone. I don’t think I can do it!” she says.
“In our pn, you won’t have to; the wolves will commit all ‘murders,’” the Dragon sighs.
“I know that… but if I make a mistake, I won’t be able to change it,” the Horse repeats. “I don’t worry about most of my choices, because I always go back and make them right. But for this…”
She trails off, tilting her head: she pulls some hidden items from her jacket pockets, and the Rat briefly looks as though he’s about to tackle her from the other side of the room. But whatever she has possession of is too small to be anything dangerous, and finally she opens her palm.
Resting on her pinkish skin are six thin pieces of driftwood. At one time the Horse had suggested building a raft, but it’s obvious these sticks are for a different purpose.
“Let’s draw straws. I brought these sticks from the beach, and whoever draws the short stick, whether they’re wolf or vilger, we’ll all leave them behind. That’s the fairest for everyone.”
“Ann-a…” I mutter, and the Horse perks up. “Ann.. a..”
An absolute idiot! That’s what she is.
I respect that she’s the kind of person who’d dream up such a proposal; it’s an offer Lily might make. But unlike “Anna’” Lily wouldn’t be dumb enough to actually speak of it at this critical moment—though the Horse thinks she’s penned a compromise, I suspect she’s actually signed my death warrant.
Still, I have no choice but to go along. I’ll even accept a random chance of survival at this point… please, God, Storyteller, Gamemaker, Cat God whoever’s the most powerful man in the zodiac’s sky—
“Ox. Do you want a random drawing? The Dragon interrupts, spying out his hands in a cssy shrug.
The Ox’s dark bck shirt is soaked in sweat, and he gnces at the Rabbit, who, while drowsing, appears to be the most gentle and child-like of us all. His expression settles into a chiseled resolve.
“No, I don’t want one. Sorry everybody,” Ox says.
“Rabbit. Do you want to draw straws?” Dragon asks again, and the Rabbit starts.
“...No! Too much effort.”
“That’s a shame then,” Dragon says. He walks to the room’s middle, and picks up the sticks from the Horse’s hands. “We’ll do this instead. Ox, Rabbit, and I will all vote for Rat. You three can all vote for whoever you like. Ox, Rabbit, is that fine with you too?”
The Ox quietly nods, and while the Rabbit makes no movements, I can sense a hint of approval from how she constantly breathes. And there’s nothing we can do anymore.
When the vote was split 2-2-2, we could trick the Dragon and sneak a 3-2-1 vote to punish and execute him. But now that he knows the Horse might not be on his side, he’s switched it so that 3 votes are always on the Rat. The Rat, the Horse, and I can tie it 3-3, but any other way of voting will cause the Rat’s death.
Based on this vote, I suppose the Dragon’s decided to dispose of hoodie boy about a day earlier than me. But I’m still not really happy about this respite—the thought of dying is already pretty depressing, and having my death scheduled for a Friday seems somehow worse than one the day before.
Perhaps the Rat agrees with me, as right now he’s smirking and fearless. He thrusts his hands deep into his hoodie, no longer slouching like the grungy scoundrel he usually represents himself as. “Bravo, Dragon.”
“Don’t spit again,” the Rabbit interjects. “Don’t go on rambling, either please…”
“I won’t. It’s time to bring this all to an end, after all.” The Rat paces, restlessly. “Dragon, they say that prisoners get one phone call when they’re arrested. It’s no phone call, but before we begin to vote can I at least pull someone aside?”
“You’re not my prisoner, you’re my peer. You’re free to talk to as many people as you’d like,” the Dragon says, bowing his head.
“As many as I’d like? Great, then I’ll talk to two.” The Rat grins as the Dragon’s warm smile turns to ice. “Snake, why don’t you join me behind this fancy little column in the corner?”
There’s four marble columns around the edges of the room, each decorated with icons of climbing animals with glistening, shimmering eyes. Their etched mouths and outlines are bleak indents in the edifice, and each animal conveys an expression of lifeless determination. I slip behind the eastern pilr and lean back on its cold, hard lumps.
When I first talked to the Rat, it had been through my bedroom wall. And now, at this crucial moment, we’re both once again talking towards one; he sidles up besides me, and we whisper towards the corner so no one can hear us or read our lips.
“Rat, what’s this all about? We’re going to die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but in two nights we’re both guaranteed to be dead,” I murmur.
“Are you trying to win the game?”
“Huh?” The Rat’s staring at me, intently.
Does the Rat really want me to lecture him about my perspective again? But no, the rger screen the Tiger cracked had been repced, and on it is another countdown—with about sixty minutes left, there’s still some time, but I’m not sure if it’s wise to waste it on a soliloquy of semi-pretentious thought.
“I’d like to stay alive at a bare minimum, and that’s a rather strange thing to ask,” I decide.
The Rat bites his lip. “Evasive again, huh? But that’s fair; I was asking you the wrong question all this time. Snake, will you win this game?”
I look around at the chamber. From the room’s edge, that imposing circur table seems casual and small. There’s the Ox, then a one chair gap—then the Rabbit, the Dragon, and a one chair gap to the Horse. Then, there’s six more empty chairs.
The air here is light and fresh, breezing in from the broken skylight. It feels like at any moment, the heavy world this Werewolf Game has constructed around us will dissolve, and this room’s atmosphere will turn into that of an ordinary conference room.
But until that time comes…
“If we execute the Dragon today, I’m 100% sure the vilge will win. Though the Dragon never said the identity of the other wolf, they’re pretty obvious, and I’ll just vote for them on the second day. Right now though, that’s impossible—”
“Good,” the Rat waves me off, softly. “That’s good then. Snake, I leave it in your hands.”
“What do you mean?”
He smiles as he shuffles off,
“Wait, Rat, what do you mean? What are you trying to say? Shinji!”
“I’m done with the Snake,” He decres to everyone else. “I’d like one more meeting, and then I’ll finally vote.”
“I don’t understand why you keep asking for permission,” the Dragon says, hand pushing against his forehead. “I’m fine with anything.”
“But I need your good graces for this one, cause the person I’d like to see most is you.” The Rat gestures towards the southmost column, a pure marble white marred by the brown oxidized blood stains at the base. We’d propped up the Goat there two? Or three days before. The Rat’s hands are nestled into his pockets again, and though it seems he’s extending an olive branch, his expression doesn’t look inviting at all.
“I’m always open,” Dragon finally affirms. He straightens his tie, and brushes away the dust from his bzer. It’s as though some important business meeting awaits him on the column’s other side.
I dislike the Dragon for his politeness and well-mannered behavior even as he pns to kill the Rat and me. But truthfully, what annoys me the most about the Dragon is that despite all my fighting, his survival pn’s reasoning is genuine and in some ways objectively correct. It makes sense to preserve four out of six people’s lives, and of those lives it certainly makes sense to prioritize those who would make the most use of it.
Previously, I had picked out the name “Anna” for the Horse. I can try to think of a name that suits the Dragon, but I can’t come up with anything better than the one the game has already given him; “Doctor,” “Senator,” “Prime Minister, “President,” I can only think of titles, and I suppose that means, subconsciously, that he’s earned my respect.
“I’d like to meet with you one more time, too.” Dragon nods, as he walks over to the other corner of the room. The Rat stands by the column’s side, tense as a wound-up string. “Is this about the vote?”
The Rat thrusts his hand into his pocket and stares deeply into the Dragon’s eyes. This time, the boy had chosen a meeting spot that’s completely exposed to everyone else, as though he’s about to put on a show—and he takes a long time to respond to the Dragon’s question.
A cold breeze plunges into the room from the shattered skylight, and the Rat turns his gaze directly towards me, and for a moment, he looks like a lost little boy. But after the wind dies down, and his casual, careless expression returns.
“Is this about the vote?” the Dragon repeats again.
“Yes,” the Rat breathes in.
He takes his hand from his hoodie pouch, and in it gleams a silver knife, the one missing from the kitchen. He raises it high and plunges it down, down, down, right through the Dragon’s neck.
Squelch!
“Finally. To have a real win in my gasp. No more emptiness, no more broken dreams, to see something in my mind and finally make it real—this is it!” He cries out, with an exuberant grin.
The Dragon’s still upright, gssy-eyed, hand wrapped firmly around the wound. He doesn’t talk, and leans back on the marble pilr. The Rat frowns, and prepares to gouge him again—
“Stop!” Horse says. “You can’t!”
She reaches out helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks, and the Rat turns towards her as the Dragon’s grip goes sck. The Rat boy rotates his jaw, as if thinking carefully about what words to say next—his colr flickers and fshes, yet the voice that comes is clear and rexed.
“Don’t you understand? It’s our victory…” he says.
As if to emphasize his point, there’s a burst of fireworks. They’re fleshy. Dark. Vicious. The whole pilr is covered in a fresh coat of cloth scraps and red.
“Rule 4: Pyers who cause other pyers to be unable to vote will be punished with death,” I mutter.
I’m further disturbed to see the person I knew as “the Rat” or “Shinji” in pieces on the ground, but he probably knew that this was what might have happened from the moment he called me aside. His teeth are scattered on the ground, and I still read that as a strange kind of smirk.
But, what makes this scene a true nightmare is that the red-coated Dragon is still breathing. He might be unconscious, and with the knife twitching in his throat, he’s definitely not able to speak. But he’s gurgling, rapsing, half-alive in that pile of human debris.
And as always, there’s nothing we can do. No one to save us, no action or inspiration we could use to save his life or ease his pain. Nothing, nothing, nothing—
“I’m voting for the Dragon.” Rabbit says, ftly, rising from her chair. “So let’s finish the trial.”
She lightly taps her tablet, then walks over to the Dragon’s device and taps that one too. There’s still many minutes left in the trial, but in just a few seconds, the votes all arrive.
Processing results… done!
Receiving 0 votes each…
Snake
Horse
Oxen
Receiving 1 vote from the Dragon…
Rabbit
Receiving 4 votes from Snake, Horse, Ox, and Rabbit.
Dragon
The Dragon takes his st breath and lies silent. Of everyone in this room, he now looks the most at peace, and as for the rest of us, we’re all in varying states of distress.
“Murder. It was murder, again.” The Horse is crying as she speaks, and the Ox sms the table, a blow so strong that splinters cut into his fist.
“Lies! The pn was all lies! I’ll tear that wolf apart!”
“Huh? What did the st wolf do?” Rabbit murmurs.
“I trusted what the Dragon said, but now it’s just a massacre. Only one or two of us are gonna make it! How am I supposed to get it home?” Ox shouts, standing up from his chair.
“No more! Please! We can’t hurt any more people… not after this… not even the other wolf.” Horse starts coughing. “Please… we can’t… we have to stop…”
She’s trembling, suffering from a shock so severe that it’s traveled out from her soul and into her physical frame. She’s doubled-over, hacking, and the Ox looks down in shame.
I fish her inhaler from her pack, and she settles down after another puff. If this game keeps going, I don’t know if she can take it.
But just one wolf remains. And as for myself —
Lily wanted me to survive so I could live my life. The Rat wanted me alive so I could seal his “win,” and even the Dragon wanted me to live if it were “possible” in his own odd way.
With all these ghosts to haunt me, I feel compelled to finish this so I can put them all at rest. And my inner social detective wants to complete his puzzle too, even if its pieces are awash in blood.
“Anna. Everyone. I can’t say that things will be okay. But if we just march onwards to the next trial, one way or another this game will be over,” I say, and though no one replies the crying begins to cease.
