by Jon Gerrard
* * *
I had stalled as long as I could. Putting the last of the carrots back in the crate I heaved it onto the cargo bed. As another slave slid it into place I glanced over at Mary. Our eyes met and I silently pleaded with her for help.
“Are you finally done?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer she pointed to me, Ian and Wheems. “Okay now, you, you and you come with me.” She turned and started toward the second transport.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” No-neck called after her.
Momma spun around. “Now look here, Mr. Rabine told me to make sure I brought his food up to the Big House! Somebody,” she shot me a hard look, “obviously didn’t tie everything down properly or we wouldn’t have lost half our load! I’m going to make sure that everything is tied down nice and tight this time!” She settled her pudgy fists on her hips. “Or do you want to explain to the boss why his supplies fell of the truck and got ruined?” Mary was the only slave I had ever seen who could get away with speaking to the guards that way.
“Just let her do whatever she needs to do,” Fat Jack said, waving her away.
“Well, okay,” No-neck agreed. “Just hurry up!”
Mary harrumphed and led us around to the back of the second transport.
“Where the hell is that boy!” she hissed through her teeth as we pretended to check the tie down lines.
“I wish I knew.”
“Everything looks good here, ma’am.” That was Bobby’s voice!
We snapped our heads around and found him standing behind us with a giant grin on his face.
“What happened?” I blurted out.
“Tell you later,” he whispered between puffed breaths. “But the everything’s been taken care of.”
I felt a great weight lift off of my shoulders.
We spent another few moments pretending to inspect knots then returned to the first transport. As we climbed up into the cargo bed No-neck Nelson was frowning.
“Didn’t you only take three guys with you?”
Mary looked at him like he was a slightly retarded child. “I count four, honey. One, two, three—”
“Okay, okay! Enough already!” Fat Jack said. He settled his bulk on a crate at the front of the transport and banged on the cab. “Get going!”
As we started to move I saw Gerrit looking from me to Bobby and back again with a puzzled expression.
The compound was a flurry of activity as we pulled in. We were directed off of the transport as soon as it stopped and lined up for a quick head count. The guard who had ordered us down checked his count against the entry on his flatpad.
“There’s one missing,” he said, turning to Fat Jack.
“B-but that’s not possible!” Jack said. “You missed someone!”
“I did the count twice,” the guard said. “So help me, Jack, if you and your stupid partner let—”
“Here I am, Boss!” Mark called as he trotted out of the slave quarters adjusting his pants.
Fat Jack stormed over to him and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. “Where the hell were you?” he screamed in his face.
“Sorry, Boss, but I really needed to use the bathroom!”
Suddenly, Jack screwed up his face and took a couple of sniffs. He let Mark go and stepped back. “You stink!”
Mark hung his head. “I didn’t quite make it.”
Fat Jack snarled and slapped him in the head, knocking his glasses askew. “Get back in line!”
“Yes, Boss!”
Bobby moved over to let Mark squeeze in between us. He really did reek of stale urine.
I looked at him from the corner of my eyes.
Catching my look he smiled then focused on the ground.