2016-08-02 - spike - Trapped 2

Author: spike
Title: Trapped 2
Date: 02 August 2016

Chapter 6

It was the height of summer and Mike, Greg and Ian were fishing in the reservoir, it was an idyllic day, the kind of day schoolboys dreamt of for their summer holidays and they were relaxing. Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, Greg grabbed him and started hugging him tightly.

“Wake up boy!”

“What are you talking about Greg?”

“Wake up! You’re suffering from exposure, if you don’t wake up you could die!”

Mike awoke with a start to find himself in bed staring into the face of the man from the top bunk. He recoiled in shock, realised his situation and began to sob in despair again.

Mike began to shiver again, even with the warmth of the man hugging him under the covers he’d never felt so cold.

“S-s-s-s-s-so cold! Why is it so f-f-f-f-fucking COLD?” his teeth chattering.

“It’s alright now, you’ll be fine. We take care of our own, here. We have to. They held you in the chains for an hour after your whipping and I needed to get your temperature back up and the only way to do that quickly was shared body heat. Now that you’re out of danger it’s time I had a look at your back.”

The very mention of the whipping reawakened the agony in Mike’s back. His sobbing grew louder and more ragged.

“B-b-but it’s only” Mike clenched his jaw and tensed all his muscles in an attempt to control the sobbing and shivering. “It’s August! It shouldn’t be this cold ‘til January!”

The man got out of bed, pulled aside the blankets and turned Mike onto his front. Then reached under the bed and withdrew a box.

“August? January? Makes little difference here, it’s either cold, very cold or fucking cold. Has been for longer than I can remember. You’ll learn to tolerate the cold. We don’t worry about time, naming days and months, every day is the same so what’s the point? Same with time of day. It’s dawn, time to work, it’s time to eat, it’s time for a crap, it’s time for sleep, none of that means anything because it’s decided by them, not us”

He pulled some cotton wool out of the box along with a bottle of brown liquid and proceeded to swab each welt in turn eliciting further yelps from Mike.

“Any minor to moderate injuries, we have to deal with ourselves. They issue each bunk with basic first aid equipment. Anything more serious like a broken bone and you’re shipped over to the infirmary.”

When he was satisfied with his work, he discarded the used cotton wool in a bin by the door and packed the contents of the box away.

“You’re a strange one, that’s for sure. You show no signs you’ve ever been whipped before and your reaction on the frame confirms it. I’m almost inclined to believe that hogwash about other worlds. The commandant was convinced by your performance that you have no comprehension, though he did note you appeared to recognise your name which may have saved you. A total simpleton is of no use to them, but one who can be taught can serve some menial task. As a result he believed my pleas that you couldn’t speak or understand him, that it wasn’t disobedience. I should thank you. After your whipping the rest of the camp were returned to their work details, I’ve been assigned as your mentor.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I have to try to teach you to understand basic commands, much as a dog would, sit, beg, stand up, lie down. Or in your case, attention, truck, load, dig, carry, arms up, arms down, kneel. Hopefully we’ll be able to get a lot more than that done before they reassess you. In the meantime, I will be spending the next 3 days here, treating your exposure and wounds and teaching you the language, training you in proper behaviour and in general having the first holiday I’ve had in the last however long it is. You’re young, that means you have a good 40 years of work in you, that’s valuable to them. You know the month. Just out of curiosity, what year is it?”

“It’s 2015”

The man nodded, looked at his reflection in the window. “Let’s see… bomb dropped in ‘82, I was 5, ‘92, 2002… err”

“You’re 38 ish, suppose it depends on when your birthday is.”

The man shook his head, “I’ve not heard that word in a while. I can’t even remember what month that is. 38 will do. I’ve been here 30 years and expect to be here til the day I die. Years ago, people tried counting their days of captivity, it didn’t help, after a few years a few of them who persisted in that just went insane and had to be killed or killed themselves.”

Mike felt another sense of dread in his stomach,“What happens when they reassess me?”

“If you have shown no sign of improvements, I will be severely punished and your new restraints will be removed and given to someone more useful.”

“I thought you said they couldn’t be removed?” A slight ray of hope started to break through Mike’s despair, only to be completely extinguished with the man’s next comment.

“No, I said they can never be removed while you’re alive. I think I remember the last Yi-erwusiyisan. Could be wrong but I think he outlived his usefulness when he got too old to do the work.”

“You mean I’m wearing a dead man’s collar?”

“Well, you didn’t think they’d been made especially for you, did you? I told you they like reusing their old gear. Very efficient system if you think about it, why make more when the mortality rate here is so high? Slaves die all the time, new slaves come in from time to time, normally criminals from their cities.”

Mike was disturbed by the matter-of-factness of this man. People appeared to be dropping like flies here. He himself was under the threat of extreme punishment, Mike could be killed and the way he was talking, someone had just stubbed their toe.

“Doesn’t any of this bother you at all?”

“This is just life. This is how we’ve all lived in this place for”, He paused and Mike saw him working something out in his head, “thirty years or more. When the Chinese came, they came in force. No-one could resist them, we were too fucked up by the nukes to fight. In a way, they saved all our lives because they had the resources, food, medicine and shelter we needed to survive. By the time we knew what was happening it was too late. After 25 years of this, you’ll have the same attitude believe me. Live, work, eat, sleep. That is your life now. Or will be if I can get some Chinese crammed into that thick skull of yours. As long as you can avoid the punishments, it’s not too bad. Just tow the line, work your heart out following my lead. You and I will probably both be punished a lot until you’ve learned, but the goal is to survive.”

Mike got out of bed and looked at his reflection in the nearest window. Totally bald and naked, with collar, manacles and chains. He exhaled deeply and his head sank.

“What was that stuff he rubbed into my scalp? It felt like it was burning me.”

“Shaving is too much trouble for them, too many suicides early on using the razors they provided, so they use that. Painful, yes, but effective. They want their slaves to know their place, removal of hair is one of those little demoralising control things they use, along with the enforced nakedness, restraints and punishments. You are property. Owned and cared for by the state, besides which it makes you stand out as a slave should anyone see you from behind when your collar’s hidden.”

Mike stroked his smooth scalp. It wasn’t too unpleasant a feeling. “Will it grow back?”

“No. You’ll be taken down to the processing centre weekly for reapplication, forget about hair, forget about your old life, we are your family now, the people in this hut.”

He looked down at the man sitting on the floor by his bed and spotted the tattoo on HIS chest.

“I’ve just realised, I don’t even know your name yet.”

The man pointed at his collar and tattoo.

零九 四一三 [/align]

Mike looked at it blankly but noticed the last 3 character were the same as his.

The man looked up, slapped himself on the forehead. “Sorry. It’s Lingjiusiyisan. To make it easier, think of the last three characters as your family name. Hut 4, camp 13. In this hut it’s acceptable to call each other by our first names, in my case, Lingjiu, yours is simply Yi-erwu. Less of a mouthful when talking to family. You’re unlikely to mix very much with the people in the other 3 cells in this hut, so you should soon get to know everyone in here by name.”

“Lingjiu, Lingjiusiyisan. Must say, I prefer yours to the one they’ve given me.”

“Yes, yours is a bit awkward to get your gob around but you’ll manage young Yi-erwu of the clan Siyisan. Think of everyone in this room as a brother. Because that is what we are now, we share the same name and the same fate. We will always be on the same work details. We will always live in this hut, it’s part of our name, after all, so they always know where to put us.”

“So Yi is one” Mike pointed at the marks on his shackle, “er is two? san is three and si is four?”

“Very good. Now get back under the blankets, I’ve stripped three off the other beds for now until you recover enough, but that is a good place to start, if you know your numbers you’ll know the names of every slave you meet.” He pointed at his first symbol “Llng, zero. Lie on your side or front for now, for obvious reasons.”

Mike crawled back under the covers. The warmth did feel nice, he’d stopped shivering again but still felt rotten. He pointed at the first symbol on Lingjiu’s chest. “If that is zero, does that mean you were one of the first people in this hut? Or did you inherit it?”

“Far from the first, the early days there were a lot of deaths, even before they began putting us to work. Malnutrition, wounds and disease all took their toll, not to mention the suicides and the adults who refused to learn to adjust to their new life. First thing we all learned here, if you fight, you suffer, if you continue to fight, you die.”

“So jiu is...”

“Nine” I don’t have anything to write on to show you the rest, but if you give me your hand I’ll try to trace them. Then we’ll go through them a few times until you’ve learned them all by heart.”

零 一 二 三 四 五 六 七 八 九 [/align]

He pointed or traced each character repeating the words “Ling. Yi. Er. San. Sì. Wu. Liu. Qi. Ba. Jiu.”

They continued this, Lingjiu pointing at a number on their restraints or tracing it, Mike saying it out loud, then they’d reverse roles, with Mike pointing, naming and tracing and Lingjiu telling him if he was correct or not.

After a while Lingjiu pointed at the window, noting a change in the light.

“We need to change subjects now. Get down to the important stuff, commands. They have a few standard ones, I’ll teach you the none-work-related ones now. Then if the commandant comes to check your progress, he can leave, satisfied he’s got a potential new and useful slave rather than a waste of food and landfill space”

“Like attention and whatever he told me to do this morning?”

“He said “Step forward”. After he repeated it 3 times he’d had enough and sent you to be processed and whipped, but when I managed to convince him you were a moron who didn’t understand, he reduced your sentence to the minimum of 20 lashes to teach you the price of disobedience. Prove you can learn and he’ll be far happier”

The blood drained from Mike’s face. “That was the minimum?! I barely survived that!”

“It’ll become easier over time once the scar tissue builds up. It’ll protect you and numb the pain a little.” Lingjiu turned to show his back to Mike, it was a criss-cross of scars from Mike dreaded to think how many whippings. “You’ll survive far worse. I did and I was younger than you when I had my first whipping.”

Lingjiu stood up and ordered Mike out of the bed. “The first word we’ll deal with is Zhan. If you’re sitting, lying down or kneeling it means stand. If you’re moving it means halt, stop. Say it. Zhan!”

“Zhan” Mike stood up.

Lingjiu demonstrated the correct stance. “When you stand, legs apart, arms to your sides, head down. In fact, for everything it’s head down. Never look them in the face unless one of them cups your chin and raises your head. Then look down with your eyes. Never look them in the eyes. It shows your status, that you submit to them. Eye contact is considered intimate, aggressive or a challenge to their authority. Think you can guess where that would lead.”

Mike corrected his stance.

“Feet as far apart as the chains allow. Good. Back straight, shoulders back. Perfect, remember that. Now. Xia gui!”.

He knelt, as he was going down his arms allowed the chain to fall between his knees and ankles. With a quick lean forward to raise his feet and a deft flip, the chains and his arms were now behind his back “hands together, not holding each other but together, like this. XIA GUI!”

Mike knelt, it took a few attempts to flip the chain under his feet, then he looked down.

“Straight back again. Good, Shoulders back. You were slouching, which is a sign of laziness and you know what happens there. Zhan!”

Mike hesitated for a moment and stood up, adopting the stance he’d just been taught.

“Xiang qian yibu!”

Mike hesitated.

“Xiang qian yibu!”

He’d heard it before and the repetition jogged his memory. He took a tentative step forward looking at Lingjiu enquiringly and noted that he’d stepped forward too.

“Good, you remembered. TUI HOU!”, he stepped back.

Mike stepped back following his lead.

“Shoubi!” Lingjiu raised his arms above his head.

“So THAT’S what that one was. They ordered me to do that when I was forced to my knees, they must’ve wanted easier access to put these fuckers on.” Mike indicated his manacles by giving his chain a rattle.

“Shuang bì xiachuí!”. Lingjui put his arms down.

“And now the one you’ll be greeted with each morning. ZHUYI!”

Mike remembered that one too, feet together, back straight, head down.

“Good, very good. You remembered attention. Now, the next three I can’t demonstrate but Gensui. Follow. Chi. Eat. Cesuo. Toilet. I’ll repeat each in turn a few times, repeat the word each time and then do it. Then I’ll mix them up and see if you remember them all.”

They did this for what felt to Mike like hours. He’d kneel, stand, stand to attention, kneel, raise his arms, stand up and lower them again. But it was sinking in. Mike was beginning to feel quite confident when a voice barked from behind the door.

“ZHUYI!”. Both instantly snapped to attention as the doors opened and two guards entered followed by the one Lingjiu had called the commandant. He paced in, planted himself two feet in front of Mike and proceeded to issue orders.

Mike followed as best he could but as the commandant sped up, he began to get confused and eventually tripped over himself as he was trying to get up from kneeling with his arms in the air and stand to attention at the same time, falling on his arse.

The commandant did a swift about turn, let out a barking laugh and marched out of the room barking “CHI!” as he left.

The guards immediately unhooked their chains from the rings on the floor, attached Mike’s to Lingjiu’s, barked “Gensui!” and marched out of the room.

Lingjiu immediately began shuffling after them and Mike followed. The biting wind had died to a cold breeze as they shuffled across the drill square heading towards a hut that looked identical to all the others. Mike began struggling, letting out the odd “OW” as he stood on loose stones or patches of ice. Finally they were back indoors again.

Inside, the hut was completely open with row after row of benches with a little hatch at the end. They proceeded to the hatch where each was handed a bowl of… something. Mike sniffed it and turned his nose away. One of the guards pointed at the nearest bench, they sat down, their chains were unhitched from each other and fastened to another ring on the floor and the guards departed.

“What was all that yelping back there? It’s as if you’ve never walked before.”

“Where I come from, we wear shoes. Well, most of us do. I’m not used to walking barefoot, what is this gloop? It smells revolting!”

“Chi! Remember, eat up, it’s the only food you’ll get. It’s got everything you need to stay alive. You did well back there, Yi-erwu. It’s not often you see him laugh. I think he was very satisfied with your performance.” He dug his hand into the food and proceeded to scoop it into his mouth.

Mike stuck his finger into it and drew out a thick blob, It was grey with the consistency of wallpaper paste. He stuck his finger in his mouth and almost gagged from the taste but at that moment realised just how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten in over a day and if this was the only food available he’d rather suffer the taste than starve to death. He bit the bullet, dug out a huge glop of the stuff and shovelled it into his mouth.

“Don’t worry boy, you’ll get used to it. You’re still young and growing, so you need it too. Probably why they gave you the same sized portion as I got.”

After a few more mouthfuls the gag reflex stopped and by the end of the bowl, Mike felt full and satisfied. Finally he finished the bowl and looked around for something to wash away the taste.

“Water’s on its way Yi-erwu. Don’t worry. They’ve got slave keeping down to a fine art. No-one could ever accuse the Chinese of being inefficient. They allow us ten minutes to eat, then they bring water, then they take us to the toilet room where we empty ourselves, then a quick hose down and back to the quarters.”

“Hose down? They don’t even let us wipe?”

“Wipe?”

“You know, toilet paper?”

Lingjiu looked at Mike as if he was from another planet, then realised if he was telling the truth, he was. He shook his head in dismay.

“You’ve still got a lot to learn about being a slave, boy.”

The doors behind them banged open and Lingjiu immediately shut his mouth and looked down. Mike followed suit. He heard a squeeky wheel approach, two jugs of water were put on the bench and the wheel squeeked away.

Lingjiu immediately grabbed the nearest and began gulping it down indicating to Mike to do the same. “They feed us once a day, normally water us twice a day, once at the work itself and once here after our food. Drink up, they’ll be back in a minute to escort us to the toilet.”

“I could probably do with that, I’ve not had a crap or piss since I got here.”

“Oh, you have, believe me, you voided yourself when they tasered you for one thing. I know that much from the looks on their faces when they stripped you, hosed you down and dumped you in our cell. We were coming back from work detail when we saw it. You had another piss on the flogging frame. Surprised you didn’t notice, but I suppose you were too far gone by then. Probably why you’ve not been dancing around trying to hold it in during training today.”

Just as Mike had emptied his jug, the guards returned, reconnected their chains, issued the order for follow and led them back outside to the hut next door. The guards opened the door, escorted them inside, opened another door, wrinkled their noses, shoved them inside and slammed it behind them.

The stench was eye watering. Along the length of the room was what could only be described as an open sewer, a ditch through which a little water trickled.

Lingjiu walked straight over to the pit dragging Mike along behind him, he squatted, dumped his load turned and pissed and looked at Mike, “Go on then!”

Mike was too busy trying to resist the urge to vomit, but eventually managed to force himself to inch closer to the ditch.

“You’ve got to lose that squeamishness, it’s pointless, this is where we crap, every day we will spend time in here, so just squat dump turn piss and wait, the guards hate the smell so wait outside and bang on the door when the time’s up. If you think it’s bad now, wait until there’re 30 or 40 of us all dumping at the same time. I know it’s all hard for you, but the sooner you get over yourself, the better for everyone.”

Mike had never squatted before but he was surprised at how quickly it came, when he sat on the toilet at home he could be sitting for 10 minutes before it decided to show itself, even when he’d been feeling the need for a while. By now the water had begun to work its way through his system and he let rip with a long stream as soon as he turned around.

“You may dislike it but this room is one of our favourites, many of us refuse to speak English anywhere else because we know the guards like to keep away.”

They walked to the door and waited for the knock which didn’t come soon enough in Mike’s opinion. When it did, Lingjiu opened the door, they walked out and they were led through the door opposite. The room was tiled completely from top to bottom, along the middle of the room was a drain and dangling along side it were 40 sets of chains and corresponding rings on the floor. Mike almost recoiled until he saw the look on Lingui’s face. Calm, matter of fact as always. They were led to the chains and as before when Mike was whipped, attached to them. Nothing happened for a while, they were just left dangling when suddenly from behind, a high pressure jet of freezing cold water struck them. Initially it was aimed directly at their arses. Mike screamed in agony as the jet continued, up and down their bodies and then switched to the front. By the time it was done and the restraints were released he was shivering uncontrollably again and ready to collapse on the floor.

Finally they were led through a room Mike never thought would’ve existed here. IT WAS WARM. Vents blasted hot air at them from all directions, by the time they’d walked through to the other side and back out onto the quad, they were both dry and Mike felt he’d picked up enough residual heat to keep him warm for the shamble back to the cell.

“I must say, that drying room was a pleasant surprise after the hell I’ve been through today.” Mike slumped down on his bed. “I was scared they’d just have us walk back soaking wet”.

“They did at first. But it caused more problems than they were prepared to handle. Too many slaves with double pneumonia and a sick slave is a useless slave.”

“So why did they leave me dangling there for an hour after the whipping then?”

“Just to let you know that they could. That as far as they’re concerned you’re lower than a dog in the scheme of things. They treat their dogs well, give them affection, feed them meat, take them for walks and let them sleep in their own quarters. We’re lower than animals to some of the guards. Doesn’t matter, it’s just more to accept.

Time to get the first aid kit out again. Sit on the bed Yi-erwu, that tattoo needs to be cleaned and the dressing replaced daily. Surprised it wasn’t washed off by the water.” Again he grabbed the box from under the bed and pulled out some cotton wool, the bottle and a replacement dressing.

With a swift rip and a small yelp from Mike the tattoo was exposed for the first time since he’d got it. Hard black lines made up the symbols, each surrounded by an angry red.

“Looks like it’s healing well, it’ll be uncovered and allowed to breath in a couple of days at this rate. He swabbed the tattoo with the brown liquid and gently placed a new dressing over it. “There y’go, now get some rest, boy. You’re probably still weak from your trials today and there’ll be a memory quiz once the others get back from work duty. I want you to name each of them as they file in.”

“Could we go over them a couple more times then?”

“OK”, Lingjui sat next to him on the bed and they repeated the pointing and tracing game a few times. Once Lingui was satisfied, he climbed up onto his bunk and with a rattle of chain against the bed frame, climbed under the blanket. “Now rest. We have no idea how long they’ll be. Hopefully the commandant’s good humour this morning will bring them home before dusk.”

Mike lay back on the bed and yelped, then remembered to sleep on his side and was soon sound asleep.

With the harsh bark of “ZHUYI!”, Mike snapped awake. He saw Lingjiu drop from the bed and stand immediately to attention and scrambled out of bed to follow, standing up just as the door opened. He snapped to attention before the first guard entered, leading the chain gang back. He snapped “Ne de chuang!” and Mike’s new brothers shuffled into the room with looks of exhaustion on their faces.

Lingjiu nudged Mike and Mike remembered what he had to do. He looked at each collar or tattoo in turn.

First in the line was the man with the unpleasant looking growth on his face. Baqi”

Next came a boy not much older than himself. “Qijiu”

Next in line was the man with the withered arm, he looked to be in about his mid twenties. “Sanwu”

As Mike continued to reel off the roll call, each smiled or said something in Chinese to him which he took to be a greeting or thanks.

As soon as the doors slammed shut, a few in the closest bunks gathered around and started bombarding him with questions in Chinese. Lingjiu immediately stepped in and said something in Chinese, loudly so all could hear. Then whispered to Mike “That’s... Calm down people, he’s not learned THAT much yet! Ask me, if you’re not prepared to speak English, and I’ll translate, he’ll answer, I’ll give you the answer.”

For the rest of the night before lights out that’s how it went, some had the courage to ask him directly “Where are you from? How can you never have been whipped or not know Chinese?” but by the end of the night he’d shared his entire story from school to Blackpool to canal world to the bully and his entrapment.”

Most treated his tale with scepticism but a few of the older ones grew excited, remembering how their world had been.

And then the lights went out. There was a loud rattle of chains as everyone climbed or crawled into their beds and went to sleep.

The next day was much like the last, Mike was again awoken with a scream in his throat and a hand over his mouth.

Lingjiu removed the hand as Mike woke “You have to stop doing that!”

“Sorry, think it’s the same nightmare, trouble is, the nightmare is this, and when I wake up I don’t remember what the actual dream was.”

The guards came, the work detail filed out, Mike named each as they passed and then Lingjiu began to teach Mike more words, this time work related while going over the ones he’d already learned to confirm he’d remembered them.

They continued this until the guards arrived to take them for food, water and toilet during which time Mike managed to put aside his squeamishness and eat the food without even screwing his face up once. He even surprised himself by just marching to the channel and crapping without any trouble, but he did scream when the water jets hit him.

When they were returned home again, Lingjiu began a much more difficult task.

“I think I’ve taught you all the most common words now, until you encounter a new one I won’t know to teach it to you so I think it’s time to try teaching you to understand more. Not just barked commands, but conversational Chinese.”

“You think I’ll be able to? I heard it’s one of the most difficult languages in the world to learn!”

“It’s the most difficult to learn to speak. One wrong tone of voice could turn a compliment into an insult, but it’s something you need and listening is a lot different to getting your mouth around the words in the right way. When the guards are around, stick to the simple stuff, best to maintain the illusion that you’re an idiot to them until you’re fluent.”

It was slow going, much as they both expected it to be and they hadn’t made much progress before the others were returned. Mike greeted each as they passed again, the older slaves quizzed him about his world before lights out.

By the end of the third day, Mike had got a very basic grasp of a lot of the most common words and basic sentence structure. The tattoo had healed enough to remove the dressing. Mike looked down at it and his reflection in the mirror and came to the shocking conclusion that he didn’t hate it.

Over the past three days he’d realised he liked everyone in this cell, he’d even begun to think of Lingjiu as his brother and became increasingly attached to all of them. But the morning would bring a moment he’d been dreading. The morning he and Lingjiu would be joining them on the work detail and he realised, he didn’t actually know what the work involved. Lingjiu had explained all the words, but not the job.

Lying in bed after lights out, he asked, whispering so as not to upset the anglophobes in the room “Lingjiu… What is the work anyway? Don’t think you ever said.”

“I didn’t.” came the whispered voice from above “We never know one day to the next what we’ll be doing. We could be up on the edge in the mines digging for coal, clearing debris from the town to make way for expansion, crushing rocks to use on the roads or even building the roads themselves. I just gave you all the common words related to everything we do.”

“That sounds like really hard work, what happens if I collapse from exhaustion half way through?”

“What do YOU think?”

The dread grew as the night progressed. Mike’s nerves and fear of the coming day kept him awake most of the night.

The first work morning began with a shake, for once he hadn’t screamed as he slept. Everyone was standing by their beds at attention awaiting the order and before long they were all filing out into the early morning cold. Walking as part of a chain-gang took a little getting used to. Mike kept falling out of sync only to feel the tug of the chain and had to skip to catch up. By the time they reached yet another hut his feet were screaming in pain.

They joined a queue outside this hut and Mike instantly began shivering. Several work crews were already exiting the building wearing the Mao suits he’d seen when they were watching him being whipped. He looked down at his chains curious to know how the hell to put them on. He looked down to see with relief they were all wearing what looked like heavy work boots.

Finally their turn arrived, Lingjiu and Mike were third and fourth in the line as they approached a hatch in the wall. As each man stood, his name was called out and a minute later he was handed a pile of clothes topped by boots. Then the line moved on.

“YI-ERWUSIYISAN!” Mike watched with interest as the man in the back checked a list, grabbed a couple of items of clothing and some boots and handed them to the man at the desk who then ticked off the name on a sheet. Mike took the clothes and moved on but then had to wait while the rest of his brothers were outfitted. The whole gang was then moved on to a changing room. Mike placed his clothes on the bench and looked at them curiously, holding up his trousers and shirt. He turned to Lingjiu to see what to do to see him undoing a lace along one of the sleeves.

Mike began doing the same, noting that undoing both laces allowed the shirt to be pulled on like a tabard and the sides and sleeves to be done back up without removing the chains, he examined the trousers and saw a similar thing, a lace running up the inseam around the crotch and down the other side.

He finished undoing the laces and started putting it on. Lingjiu prodded him and held out his arms. There was a guard present so he couldn’t speak but he guessed correctly that he wanted help in lacing up. Mike fumbled for a few minutes but managed to complete the task and then Lingjiu did the same for Mike in half the time. The trousers were next.

Once everything was fastened up, Mike was surprised at how comfortable it was. He looked across at his brothers as they were putting on their boots. “Bugger, no socks” was his first thought as he crammed his feet into them and did them up.

Finally, the chain-gang was led to a truck and ordered to get on board. One by one, they clambered up the metal steps to sit on the bench along the outer walls. As Mike and Lingjiu were close to the front of the gang they sat on the right side with the others filing along and then back down the left. The guard locked the end of the chain to a ring in the ceiling, closed the tailgate, climbed into the driver’s seat and they were away.

Mike looked around, there were little gaps in the walls of the truck he could see through so he watched as the landscape opened up. It looked familiar. The camp dwindled in the distance. There were twenty huts all around the parade square with the processing centre at the head of the square. Then he looked up at the hills. The road had taken a sharp turn to the right and a familiar rock formation entered his view.

He turned to Lingjiu and whispered into his ear. “That’s Indian’s Head! We’re heading up to Saddleworth moor”.

Lingjiu smiled, “That’s good, fresh air, filthy job, you’ll end up knee deep in freezing mud, but at least the work isn’t too hard. Looks like we’re off peat cutting.”. He frowned and pulled his tongue out at a couple of the others who were giving disapproving looks. “rather than pussyfoot around trying to find stable spots to walk on, just plough right in, as long as you keep moving you’ll stay warm enough and there’s no stopping until we get back to the truck. It’s a simple skill, you’ll be next to me so just do what I do.”

The truck stopped, the end of the chain was detached from the ceiling and they all filed out in reverse leaving Mike and Lingjiu near the back. As the line filed forward he noted they were being each handed an odd shaped spade. It looked like it was designed to cut a square of earth out with each stamp.

All now equipped, they shambled across the moor until they reached a stark, black expanse where the grasses had been removed. Walking on this was exactly how Lingjiu had described it. Occasional more solid patches gave way to rivers of mud up to the waist at times. Eventually they found themselves at a place where another chain gang was loading piles of peat blocks into a lorry.

The head of Mike’s line was positioned at the edge of what looked like a small cliff, obviously from where the peat blocks had been cut and the guard barked the “Dig” command and walked over to the side to sit down. Obviously not paying the least bit of attention to anyone. Mike looked across at the other slaves, their guards were similarly lounging about.

One final word of English made its way to Mike’s ear before they began. “Don’t let that fool you. If they spot anyone slowing, they’ll have their whips out before you can say OW!.”

He began to dig, Mike following his lead.

At first it was easy, dig a block, put it on the pile to one side, dig a block, pile, dig, pile. After three hours Mike’s back was killing him and not just from the whipping.

But at least he wasn’t shivering any more, sweat was pouring down his forehead. He even welcomed it when he had to step back into a knee deep pool of peaty water.

By the end of six, he felt like his arms were about to drop off. He slowed and felt the sting of a whip across the small of his back. The adrenalin rush and the urge to avoid more pain spurred him on and by the end of the day, after taking 5 lashes, he was collapsing onto the truck bench in exhaustion.

As soon as the truck engines fired up, Lingjiu whispered into Mike’s ears. “I’m proud of you boy. You’ve redeemed yourself in everyone’s eyes. Most of this lot were expecting to be taken to the punishment yard after today because they thought you’d let them down, keep this up, lad, keep it up.”

A week ago, Mike would’ve never thought he’d be so deeply affected by such praise but after today, he couldn’t help himself. He hugged his brother, whispered “Thank you!” and wept.

As the journey continued he looked down at himself. He was black from head to toe, he’d been cold, he’d worked well beyond what thought he was capable of and every muscle in his body ached. But for the first time since he got here, he felt a sense of peace. Was he truly beginning to accept his enslavement?

The truck pulled back into the compound, the slaves were unloaded and led back to the outfitters, where they were stripped again, led into the washing room and hosed down. He was too tired to even yelp as the cold water struck him. If anything he felt like it was cooling him down, he actually began to enjoy it. Mike looked around as they were led into the eating hall. The place was bulging. The queue to the food hatch seemed a mile long, but it only took a few minutes before he and his brothers were seated and eating.

Ignoring the taste he wolfed it down, he was more hungry than he’d ever been before and he knew this was if nothing else a good stomach filler.

As they were having a crap, Lingjiu recognised the signs of exhaustion. “Sleep tonight Yi-erwu, you need it, we’ll continue the Chinese lessons when you’re more able.“

“Thanks, I’ll feel this tomorrow, I can tell you. Feel like every muscle in my body’s on fire”

After another hose down it was back home.

Home? When had he begun referring to the cell as home? He’d only just noticed. He’d been here in this world for a few days and he was already thinking of this place as his home?

Lingjiu again took out the first aid box.

Let’s just look at your back again and show me your hands. You’re not used to manual labour, I could tell that. You’ve probably got blisters on blisters. They need to be dealt with or they’ll pop and get infected.”

He lay on his stomach again as Lingjiu treated his wounds. “You’re a fast healer, your back’ll be fine in a week, if you avoid the whip. Now, hands.”

Mike held out his hands. He hadn’t even noticed the blisters forming as he worked. Lingjiu lanced each with a sterile needle, drained them and swabbed them with the brown liquid. Then he proceeded to cover them with a sterile pad and bandage them.

“Blisters are bad if they burst, your hands will be painful for a couple of days until they heal. You’ll form callouses eventually, that’ll protect them from more blisters later on. Try to ignore the pain, they won’t make allowances if you slow down because of them.”

Mike lay back down in the bed thinking about when he’d begun to think of this as home and fell asleep.

The next day they returned to peat cutting. His hands screamed with pain, he ached all over, he tried his best but he still took ten lashes of the whip. The others put in the extra effort to keep to their quota as a thank you for not letting them down the previous day.

The day after he took fifteen as his body slowly ran out of stamina, but by the seventh, he found his body was adjusting to the workload, his hands had stopped hurting and he wasn’t noticing the cold as much. He barely felt it any more as they hobbled naked across the square. With some alarm he noticed that his restraints were beginning to get tighter. He began to worry they might start to choke him or the blood supply to his hands and feet.

The next day after work, he was taken to the processing centre for another application of the anti-hair cream when he noticed them doing something to his collar, manacles and shackles. He watched in interest as some electronic device was fiddled with and suddenly the shackles, collar and manacles returned to their previous tightness.

He looked at his reflection in the window when he was returned to the cell. Wondering why the manacles and collar had begun to shrink. At first, he didn’t see it. But a closer look. Was he taller? He measured himself against the bed post. It did seem shorter. He looked down at himself. Were his arms and legs becoming more muscular?

“The work’s doing you some good, lad. I notice they’ve loosened the restraints a notch, that only happens when they get to the point it’d be dangerous to keep them on. It means you’re filling out. You’re a good worker now, you’ll be one of the best in a few months the way things are going.” Lingjiu was looking down at him from his bunk.

“Thanks. I never thought I’d say this, but I do feel good, even my back’s stopped hurting.”

“I told you, accept what life’s given you. I can tell you’re beginning to accept what you are, who you are now. You seem more comfortable in yourself too. It’s an uncomplicated life. I heard stories of nervous breakdowns, office politics, mortgages… none of that here.”

“True… But here there’s the stench of the toilet, the so-called food, the whippings and the fact that no matter how hard you work or what you do, things will never change. Everywhere has its down side.” Mike grinned. He surprised himself but he was actually smiling. “I think I’ll be ready to resume the lessons tomorrow. I’m not aching as much after work now.”

Lingjiu was right though, he was feeling better about himself. He was a slave. But more than that, these men were his brothers. He muttered his name under his breath. Now he didn’t see it as a slave name, he was truly beginning to see these men as family. He looked at his tattoo recalling the horror he’d felt as it was applied. Now it was a badge of honour, a thing that made him a part of something. He resolved from that point on to only refer to himself as their kin, Mike would be forgotten, he was Yi-erwusiyisan. It was pointless keeping his old name anyway, he was here and shocked as he was to admit it, he was beginning to love them. Especially Lingjiu.

“Right you are, no need for a recap, you’re getting that every day as you work anyway, probably even picking stuff up without noticing.”

Yi-erwu hadn’t considered that but he had noticed he was beginning to understand a little more of the chitchat between the others as they worked.

He climbed back into bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow

For the next two weeks it was more peat cutting. Yi-erwu found as the days wore on that he was able to not only keep up with the others, but exceed them. He was growing stronger and fitter with each passing day.

The next week everything appeared the same until the clothing hand out. The Mao suit he was handed had hi-vis stripes and the boots seemed much sturdier. Along with those were included a hard hat with a light on the front and a dust mask. He looked at Lingjiu quizzically.

His face was stone, whatever it was, it seemed clear he didn’t like it. It was in the truck when he told Yi-erwu.

“Mining, we’re going to the mine on the edge.” he said, grimly.

Yi-erwu waited for an explanation.

Lingjiu sighed “Yi. The work is much much harder. Er. The quotas as much more difficult to achieve. San. It’s dangerous and Si. the foreman is a complete and utter bastard. Not that we’re meant to show any disrespect to the masters of course, but that one... Even a single mistake or under-quota and we’ll all see the punishment yard tonight. And it won’t just be 20 lashes.”

“Shit!”

“Exactly. Just do your best, try not to cock up, that’s all you can do.”