A Currency of Time

***Warning: this story contains themes of child killing that may upset the reader***

Don’t tell anyone.

My mother’s voice rang the mantra once more through my mind as I sat in the interrogation room and tried to look like I was guilty of nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was alone in the room, left by the interrogator to stew in my own head, but I knew they were watching. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been in the small, windowless room. I was certain that was by design as well—anything that made me more uncomfortable, more vulnerable, and more likely to crack. Little did they know that in leaving me here to stew, they were giving Stephan more time.

We had made the contingency plan three years ago, the moment I knew I was pregnant with the boys. If one of us is taken in for questioning, they play for time while the other takes the boys and runs. It’s common knowledge that Tollencia, the country to the East of our home country of Rhuingar, will take in any parent of twins that can make it over the border. Like most countries, following the over population disaster, the law in Tollencia states that each family may have one successful pregnancy, regardless of the number of babies. 

In Rhuingar, the government takes a far less kind approach. The law here states that each family may have one child. In the case of twins, an expectant mother has two options- terminate the pregnancy or else go through with it and have the second baby taken away and euthanised at birth. I chose option three- utilise my unique position in having a midwife for a mother to fudge the data and keep both of my babies. That was the day my mother gave me my mantra.

Don’t tell anyone.

In the two years since they were born, Henry and Theo had been masquerading as one person. If they ever get found out, both will be killed, along with Stephen and me. That is why we made the escape plan, and that is why I now had to play for time. Every minute I bought could be the minute that saves my boys’ lives. 

The lock on the door clicked, the handle squeaking slightly as it was pulled down. I braced myself. This was it. Time to stall. The door creaked on its hinges as it opened. My heart began to race, and it was a struggle to maintain a calm demeanour.

“That needs oiling,” I told the interrogator casually. Thankfully, I sounded incredibly blasé.

The interrogator only grunted. His bulking frame blocked any view I might have had of the hallway outside of the room. He closed and locked the door behind him, turned around, and in two strides, he was at the chair opposite where I sat cuffed to the table.

“Mrs Grant,” he began.

“Call me Madeline,” I said, remembering to take a deep, slow breath so my voice would remain steady.

“Mrs Grant,” he said again, then paused to see if I would react before continuing, “I assume you know why you are here?”

I took another slow breath.

“No,” I said. “Though I would like to point out you’ve had me here a very long time. It’s quite rude, you know. You could at least have offered me a glass of water.”

This was the first of a list of stalling tactics I had been compiling while I sat here. If I could get the interrogator going through a whole complaints procedure, that could buy a lot of time.

“Noted,” the interrogator said. “Mrs Grant, you are here because of the actions of Mrs Eloise Marshall.”

“Because of Eloise?” I said without thinking.

The interrogator raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch, and I knew right then that I had made my first mistake. Even still, a small spark of hope lit up inside of me. If I was here because of my sister-in-law, then it was entirely possible that no one would be trying to find Stephen and the boys. They could get away with- well, not ease, because no one got out of Rhuingar with ease- but they could make it out. It might even be the case that I could get out and join them, that we could remain a family unit.

“Mrs Marshall has disappeared,” the interrogator said. “Completely vanished. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

I shook my head. The interrogator sighed through his nose, the hairs of his large walrus moustache rippling.

“I had hoped you would just talk,” he said, “but if you are going to be difficult, we will have to do this the hard way.”

He got to his feet. Walking to a small button on the wall, which I had taken to be a light switch, he pressed it and said, “She’s not cooperating. Bring in the trolley.”

“Hang on,” I said, spying another opportunity. “You can’t ask me a question, receive an honest answer, and then call me uncooperative.”

“If you won’t tell us what we need to know-“

“But I don’t know why Eloise is gone. I didn’t even know she was until you just told me. Do you want me to lie?”

“Of course not,” the interrogator said.

“To make something up?” I pushed.

“No.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“I want you to tell me everything you know about the disappearance of Mrs Eloise Marshall.”

“I already told you,” I said. “I don’t know anything.”

“When was the last time you saw Mrs Marshall?” The interrogator asked, resuming his seat.

I took a deep breath. Draw it out, I reminded myself. Play for time.

“The last time I saw Eloise was Friday. She and my brother, Nathaniel, had Stephen and me round for a meal. It was lovely. Nathaniel’s a great cook. Much better than I am. We had soup, then roast chicken. I don’t know how he manages to get the chicken so moist, it’s always dead dry whenever I-”

“Skip the rambling,” the interrogator cut in.

“Right, sorry,” I said. “Where was I? The last time I saw Eloise. As I said, it was Friday at her home. She had dairy-free ice cream with dessert, which is a little odd, I guess, but then it was the coconut flavour stuff, and I know she loves coconut, especially with chocolate. Nathaniel made this gorgeous melt-in-the-middle chocolate pudding, really gorgeous hot fudge sauce oozing-”

“Enough with the rambling!” The interrogator said.

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m making myself hungry just thinking about it. Any chance of something to eat?”

“No. What time did you leave Mr and Mrs Marshall’s home?”

I stopped to ponder that for a moment.

“Well, after dinner, we played some games- Charades, Pictionary- and had these little after-dinner mints that Nathaniel had-”

“What time?” The interrogator asked again. A flicker of triumph ran through me as his nostrils flared.

“Must have been around nine-thirty,” I replied. “We were home in time for my mother to beat curfew. She was watching our son.”

“Ah yes, your son Henry.”

Red flags flew up all around my brain. Only those closest to our family, those we trusted with the truth about the twins, knew their true names. Everyone else believed we had one son named Edward. The fact that the interrogator knew Henry’s name…

Something of my fear must have shown in my face, because the interrogator smiled cruelly. I worked on conditioning myself back to neutral as I said, “Henry? My son’s name is Edward. We named him after Stephen’s father. He died when Stephen was sixteen. Car accident. I never got the chance to meet him, but Stephen still misses-”

“If you ramble again, Mrs Grant, I will start using rather more unpleasant means to extract the information I need. Now, tell me the truth. Where is Eloise Marshall?”

“I don’t know.”

I knew he didn’t believe me; the question was, why? What could possibly have happened to cause him to believe I had helped Eloise; or allowed him to know that my son was named Henry? Did he know about Theo, too?

“Mrs Grant, I know that you know where she is. Now, this is your last chance. Where is Eloise Marshall?”

“I honestly have no idea.”

“Well then,” he said with a cruel smile. Getting up, he returned to the button on the wall and said, “Bring it in.”

A man, far smaller than the interrogator in size and stature, came through the door pushing a large trolley covered in machinery and wires- a lie detector. Fear seized my chest.

Don’t tell anyone. 

I had to keep the conversation away from my sons. One slip and… I couldn’t think of it. As the short man hooked me up to the wires, the interrogator set up a television set. The moment the wires were all in place, and the machine turned on, I spoke.

“I have no idea where Eloise is. I haven’t seen her since Friday evening.”

“Truth,” declared the little man. The interrogator bristled.

“Then why were you rambling?” He asked.

“Isn’t that obvious?” I replied. “I’m nervous. You aren’t exactly hospitable.”

“If you don’t know where she is, then explain this,” said the interrogator. He switched on the television set.

It seemed to be CCTV footage from a hospital suite. There was a bed and some sort of monitor, and a woman sat in a chair by a computer in the corner. I watched as the door opened, and Eloise and Nathaniel entered.

The woman smiled.

“Mrs Marshall, I presume?” She said. Eloise nodded. “Is this your husband?”

“Nathaniel,” he said, stepping forward to shake the doctor’s hand.

“Well, Mrs Marshall, if you just lay on the bed there, your husband can stand beside you, and we can have a look.”

The doctor pulled out a thick, wand-like device and a tube of gel, and I realised what type of hospital suite this was. Eloise’s dairy-free ice cream suddenly made a lot more sense. And if she had now disappeared…

Sure enough, I watched as the doctor rubbed the wand on Eloise’s belly, and the initial looks of delight on everyone’s faces turned to something dark and horrible. I listened as not one, but two heartbeats filled the room, beating strong and fierce, and Eloise let out a wail of despair.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Marshall,” the doctor said softly. “You know what needs to be done. I’ll give you both a minute.”

She left the room, and Eloise and Nathaniel sat staring blankly into opposite corners.

“How has this happened?” Eloise said after a moment. “This is the third time! I can’t do this again. I can’t.”

Three sets of twins? I hadn’t even known she had ever been pregnant! My hand itched to drift to my own stomach. I sat on it and looked back at the screen.

Her breaths were coming fast and hard, her hands shaking. Nathaniel covered them with his own, a tear running down his cheek.

“What if…” Eloise looked suddenly hesitant. “What if we bargained with them?”

Nathaniel pulled away, looking suddenly concerned.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, your sister has the boys. What if we-“

A jolt of fury rushed through me. It had been Eloise. Eloise had betrayed us, had forfeited the lives of my sons. Eloise, who I loved like a sister. Eloise, who I had trusted with my most dangerous secret. 

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.” Nathaniel’s voice said from the television set. “Don’t even think about it.”

Eloise let out a sob.

“I didn’t,” she said. “Not really. I just, I can’t lose another two babies, Nath. I can’t!”

Nathaniel wrapped his arms around her.

“I know, El. I know. Maybe…”

“What?” Eloise said, desperation evident in her tone.

“Well, I know Maddy and Stephen are planning to make a break for it with the boys the moment they get the chance. They’ve even managed to make contact with the twin charity over the border. What if we, you know, went with them?”

A glimmer of hope shone in Eloise’s eyes.

“Keep my babies?” She said, her voice so small and helpless that, despite my overwhelming fury, I felt a little pity.

Nathaniel nodded.

“Our babies could grow up with Henry and Theo. Like siblings.”

There it was. That was how they knew my boys' true names. My vision blurred, and tears welled in my eyes. I hoped to god that Stephen had run fast enough.

The interrogator turned off the television.

“My team are collecting down your husband and children as we speak, Mrs Grant. I would like you to tell me about the contacts you have made in Tollencia. How did you achieve this?”

My children were being collected. A numbness began to hollow out my chest, a dark hole getting deeper and deeper. I knew the interrogator was talking to me, asking me more questions, but I wasn’t sure what they were. He suddenly seemed to be speaking a different language.

Two years. For two whole years, we had been so careful. And now that brat, that absolute bitch, had ruined it all. In the space of one sentence, she had ended not just my life and the life of my husband, but the lives of my two beautiful boys as well.

Nausea shot through my body, and I leaned over the side of my chair to vomit up what little food there was in my stomach. The world tilted and swayed. Somewhere in the distance, someone was saying, “She’s no use now. Doesn’t have a clue where Eloise is. Let’s just take her to the squad. Her husband is already there.”

Rough hands pulled me to my feet and shoved me ahead. They were going to kill me, to kill my sons. My illegally born…

I dug my feet in.

“Wait,” I said.

“What?” The interrogator asked.

“You are killing me and my husband. That’s less population. Spare my sons.”

“You know we can’t do that,” the interrogator said. “The law states that only the firstborn of any family…”

“Henry, then,” I said, seizing and clinging desperately to the only hope I could see for either of my children. “He is within the boundaries of that law. Let my Henry live.”

They had to. They simply had to. But the interrogator said nothing as he opened a door and shoved me inside the clinical room, locking me in. I pounded on it as hard as I could.

“Henry was the first one born!” I yelled. “Please, please!”

Strong arms enveloped me from behind. I started to struggle, but a soothing, familiar voice spoke in my ear.

“It’s alright, Maddy,” Stephen said. “They’re with Nathaniel and Eloise. They made it over the border.”

There was a loud crack, and Stephen dropped from behind me. A moment later, a searing pain shot through my skull, and a blissful nothingness carried me away.