Super Trick or Treat System

For a few seconds, Redman felt the boy fighting a treaty silently. Lacey shook her head, breaking the communication between them. He seems to be lost. A kind of confusion puzzled him. "It won't hurt you."

Lacey stared at his feet, frowning. He said: "I want to go back to bed now." The virgin asked. "No harm, Lacey. I promise."

Promises seem to be of little value. Lacey is stupid. But this is still a promise, and he hopes Lacey realizes it. The child looked exhausted because of his failure to escape, pursue, and stare. His face is grayish white. He asked the guards to turn him back. He seemed to have changed his mind before he turned again. He tried to relax himself, failed, but managed to reverse himself to the interrogator. "Hennessy," he said, seeing Redman's gaze again. that's it. Before he could say more, he was attracted by the sight.

"?" Redman said, suddenly feeling like a stranger.

"Who is Hennessy?"

Leftasser is lighting a cigarette. Her hands trembled slightly like hers. He didn't notice it yesterday, but he was not surprised. He has not encountered a roller that he has no problem with.

She said: "The boy is lying, Hennessy is no longer with us."

Stop for a moment. Redman didn't give a hint, only making her jump.

"Lacy is smart," she continued, putting the cigarette on her colorless lips. "He only knows that place." "Huh?"

"You are new here, and he wants to give you the impression that he has a mystery himself." "Isn't that a mystery?"

"?" She snorted. "Oh my God, he was not under guardianship in early May. He and Lacey..." She hesitated, not wanting. "There is something between him and Lacey. Maybe we never found drugs. Smell the glue and hold each other, God knows."

She did find the whole subject unpleasant. Written on her face in a dozen narrow places. "How did Hennessy escape?"

She said: "We still don't know." "He just didn't show up the roll call one morning. The place was searched from top to bottom. But he left."

"Is it possible for him to come back?"

Real laughter.

"Jesus doesn't. He hates this place. Besides, how can he get in?"

"He went out."

Leversell admitted this vaguely. "He is not particularly smart, but he is very cunning. When he disappeared, I was not surprised at all. A few weeks before he escaped, he really sank into himself. I couldn't get anything from him, and then climbed up. He had been very talkative until then."

"And Lacey?"

"Under his thumb. This happens often. The young boy admires an older, experienced person. Lacey's family background is very unstable."

Neat, Redman thought. It was so neat, he couldn't believe it. The minds are not photos in the exhibition, but are arranged in order of influence, all numbered, one labeled "cunning" and the other labeled "impressive". They are messy. They are scribbling, unpredictable, unbelievable.

And the little boy Lacey? He wrote on the water.

Class began the next day, and it was sultry and uncomfortable. By eleven o'clock, the workshop became an oven. But the boys reacted quickly to Redman's bluntness. They recognized a person in him whom they could disrespect and respect. They did not have any help, nor did they receive any help. This is a stable arrangement.

Redman found that compared with all boys, all employees have poor communication skills. A bunch of strange balls. He decided that there was no strong heart among them. The routines, their classification rituals, and humiliation rituals seem to grind them into a common gravel. He increasingly found himself avoiding talking with his companions. The workshop became a refuge, a home at home, and smelled freshly cut wood and dead bodies.

Until next Monday, a boy did not mention the farm.

No one told him that there was a farm on the land in the center. The idea made Redman absurd. Crayley said: "No one can go there anymore." Kerry is one of the worst carpenters on earth. "Smelly." Normal laughter.

"Well, guys, settle down."

The laughter subsided, and a few whispers were all over it.

"Where is this farm, Kerry?"

"Actually, this is not even a farm at all, sir." Kerry said with his tongue that it was a routine. "These are just a few cabins. It smells bad, sir. They especially now."

He pointed from the window to the wilderness outside the sports field. Since the last time he looked into his line of sight, on the first day of contact, the wasteland has matured in sweat and overgrown with weeds. Kerry pointed out a brick wall in the distance, almost all hidden behind the bushes.

"See, sir?"

"Yes, I understand."

"That's a sty, sir."

Another round of snickers.

"What's so funny?" He was in class. Begin to work seriously at the beginning.

"Sir, I won't go down. This is really a kite."

Not an exaggeration. Even in the relatively cool evening, the smell of the farm turns the stomach. Redman just followed his nose across the field and through the house outside. The building he glimpsed from the workshop window was hidden. All the farm can provide are crumbling huts thrown out of corrugated iron and rotten wood, a chicken run, and brick pig pens. As said, this is not a farm at all. It was a small domesticated Dachau. Dirty and lonely. Apparently someone had fed several prisoners: hens, half goose, pigs, but no one seemed willing to clean them. So the smell. Pigs especially live in their own decorations, and the dung cooked in the sun arrives on the island with thousands of flies.

The pigpen itself is divided into two separate compartments, separated by high brick walls. In a vestibule, a messy little pig lies on the filthy side, its side full of insects. Another smaller pig was lying on the thin straw and could catch a glimpse of the darkness inside. None of them showed any interest in Redman.

The other compartment appeared to be empty.

There is no excrement in the front yard, and there are far fewer flies among the straws. However, the accumulated smell of old feces was also strong. When there was noise inside, Redman would turn around and leave, and a large number of things were straightened out. He leaned on the padlocked wooden door, wiped the stench with willpower, and then stared at the stye door.

The pig came out and looked at him. It is three times the size of its companion, and it may be that a huge sow bred pigs in an adjacent pigpen. However, in the dirty place of her farrowing fetus, the sow is primitive, blushing pink and healthy. Her huge figure left a deep impression on Redman. He guessed that her weight must be twice his weight: a completely terrifying creature. A charming animal, thick eyelashes, curly golden eyelashes, fine hair hanging down, harden around the soft ears, hard ears, dark brown eyes look greasy and attractive.

Redman is an urban boy who rarely sees the living truth behind or before the meat on the plate. This wonderful pork is a revelation. He has always had a bad impression of pigs, which made this name a reputation synonymous with fouls, all of which are lies.

The sow is very beautiful, from the snuff nose to the delicate corkscrew on the tail, it is the seducer of the trotters. Her eyes believed that Redman was equal, and he had no doubt about it, and admiration for him was far greater than admiration for him. Her head is safe, his head is safe. They are equal under the glittering sky.

Closer, her body smells good. Apparently, someone had been there that morning, lured her down and fed her. Redman now noticed that her trough was still full of mud, the remains of yesterday's meal. She has not touched it. She is not a mouth.

Soon, she seemed to have his total, muttering quietly, she turned around with agile feet and returned to the cool place indoors. The audience is over.

That night, he went to see Lacey. The boy has been removed from the hospital department and placed in his dilapidated room. Obviously, he was bullied by other boys in his dormitory, and the alternative was solitary confinement. Redman found him sitting on the old comic rug, staring at the wall. The dusty cover of the manga made his face more milky than before. The bandage had disappeared from his nose, and the bruises on the bridge were yellowing.

He held Lacey's hand, and the boy stared at him. There has been a real change since they last met. Lacey is calm, even docile. Handshake is a ritual that Redman introduces every time he sees a boy outside the workshop. This kind of handshake is weak.

"How are you?"

The boy nodded.

"Do you like a person?"

"Yes, sir."

"Eventually, you will have to go back to the dormitory." Lacey shook her head.

"You can't stay here forever, you know."

"Oh, I know, sir."

"You must go back."

Lacey nodded. Somehow, logic didn't seem to affect the boy. He turned a corner of the Superman comic, staring at the splash page without scanning it.

"Listen to me, Lacey. I want you and me to get to know each other. Really?"

"Yes sir." Lacey didn't seem to be bothered by this conflict of opinions. "You will see." He said simply. "You will see."

"If you lie to me, there is nothing I can do. Can I?"

"No."

"Why did you mention Kevin Hennessy's name to me last week? I know he is no longer here. He escaped, didn't he?"

Lacey stared at the tricolor hero on the page.

"Isn't it?"

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