by Jon Gerrard
Chapter Five
I awoke spitting up water and found myself squinting up at someone standing over me in silhouette against the brilliant midday sky.
“Get up!” the silhouette growled and landed a solid kick in my ribs.
I got up. It was Rabine’s slave, Christian.
“Mr. Rabine says you’re to work with me,” he said, shoving a dripping bucket into my hands. He leaned close, breathing his stale breath right in my face. “But let’s get something straight first.” His fist slammed into my stomach and doubled me over. “I’m Christian Lout, Mr. Rabine’s head slave. That means I’m in charge. You see this?”
I looked up from where I was kneeling in the mud clutching my middle and fighting to breathe. In his hand he was holding a collar remote.
“You step one toe out of line and I’ll leave you wiggling on the ground like a hooked worm. Got it?” I could see his thumb hovering over the activation stud.
I wasn’t able to speak so I nodded.
“Now get up.”
I pushed myself to my feet again. It hurt to breathe. In fact my stomach hurt straight through to my spine and I seriously wondered if he had caused an internal injury. Lout watched me as I carefully straightened up. As soon as I was standing upright he feinted another punch to my gut. I flinched. He smiled cruelly and gestured for me to follow him. Spinning around he headed toward a nearby building and I hurried to keep pace with him. I hated myself at that moment but continued along beside him like an obedient pup. Lout obviously enjoyed abusing the other slaves and I didn’t want to give him any reason to work me over any more.
I realized then that we were no longer at the landing field and looked around quickly. We were in the middle of a large patch of bare ground. Multiple vehicle tracks cris-crossed the muddy earth. A lot of heavy equipment must regularly move through this area. To our right was a wide, squat building with no windows and a single door in the center. The keypad beside the door and the security sensor above it made it obvious that it was off limits. Behind us a much larger building with a series of wide, roll up doors stood beside a deeply rutted dirt roadway that led off into the trees. Several of the bay doors were open and inside I could see one of the trucks that must have brought us here from the landing field. On our left was a long, dilapidated building with a sagging roof which seemed out of place among the other well maintained structures. Beside it another road led off in a different direction. And further back, surrounding us on all sides, was the ever-present forest.
“Move it!” Lout snarled.
I hustled to keep up with him. The building we were headed toward looked new. As we drew near I realized that it was a stable. On its left was a large riding ring, surrounded by a classic, three-rail fence. Beyond that a wide, fenced in meadow stretched far into the distance. As I followed Lout toward the stable, a gravel path came into view on my right. Glancing up I could see the top of what appeared to be a very large and impressive mansion set far back away from the compound.
Twin doors slid apart as we approached the stable and we were greeted by a blast of wonderfully cool air. As we stepped into the dim coolness I could see that everything inside was sparkling new. Rows of box stalls occupied most of the space. Each of his animals would have plenty of room. There was a large tack area to the right where dozens of saddles and other equipment were hung, none of it showing any signs of wear. To the left was a practice ring. It was smaller than the outdoor ring but large enough for more than one rider to train in at the same time. The nearly thirty horses Rabine had just bought had been turned out in the ring together.
Rabine had obviously spent a small fortune on this impressive facility and its top quality equipment, but he had made several mistakes. The most obvious one was the flooring. The flooring inside the stalls was neocrete. This was bad for the horses’ hooves. A layer of sawdust and straw had been put down as a bedding but that wasn’t enough. The underlaying surface would still be too hard and could eventually cause any number of hoof problems. There was also the air conditioning system. It had to be twenty degrees cooler in here than it was outside. Going from one environment to the other could easily cause the horses to cramp, which could lead to injury if they were forced to work before they were properly warmed up. And then there was the problem of putting all of the horses together in the ring. New horses should be isolated for several days to make sure that they didn’t have anything contagious they could pass to the others. There was also the real possibility that placed together as they were they could start fighting. People don’t usually think of horses as being aggressive, but fights between horses could be serious. A blow from a hoof could tear open skin or shatter bone.
All in all, it was a stable that had been built by someone who could afford the best but who had little practical knowledge of what he was doing. I was trying to figure out how I might be able to use this to my advantage when Lout rounded on me and cuffed me on the side of my head, causing me to stagger and drop the bucket.
“Mr. Rabine wants each of his horses fed, watered and groomed!” he snapped. He folded his arms and stared at me.
I looked over at all of the animals that needed attending to and groaned inwardly.