Life at Hard Labor chapters 46-48

Author: Fumpa
Title: Life at Hard Labor Chapters 46-48
Date: 04 June 2012

Chapter 46-

My left hand strained with the weight of another long, heavy rail. The sinking sun beat down on the right side of my face. We marched past rail after rail, and tie after tie knowing that we had carried, laid down, and driven in every rail, tie and spike we saw. If we weren’t in chains we might have been proud.

10 left boots stomped down and chains rattled. 10 right boots followed. There were 10 pairs of white stripes on 10 dark denim legs followed by 10 more of each. 20 tanned backs, about 14 of which bore fresh whip marks inched slowly down the long railroad, and saw the bare ties ahead in the distance. What we couldn’t see is where we had started. Even if we could have turned around, we could not see the rails we had to march back for.

My left leg stuck out again as I stared at the dusty ground next to the rails we had laid down. I could see both the thick white stripes, and those same stupid letters gaping up at me as if I had been given a failing grade both in life and in prison. Chain gang. That’s all I was. I had long forgotten the grim vision of my old factory collapsing. That menacing vision was literally washed out of my eyes with sweat, and burned out of my brain by the sun.

I made no secret of the fact that I was exhausted. I was breathing heavily, and whishing one of my hands was free to fling the sweat off my face. As tired as I was, I pulled my weight just like all the other men. I could feel Craig’s hot breath on my neck, and I heard a lot of heaving and coughing coming from behind me. The chain gang was running out of gas.

Those convicts that had never carried or laid a rail down couldn’t believe the distance we had to walk back and forth. I didn’t have the brainpower to think about whether there was a more efficient way to build a railroad. I was just building the damn thing and doing as I was told. My brain was baked like a ham. God I missed ham.

We finally ground to a halt where there were no more rails atop the ties, and once again we hefted the heavy iron into the grooves of the wood. In that brief second or two we had before we had to start driving the spikes in, I realized the direction we were heading. We were going south. It would only get hotter.

When we had put that tie to bed, we began the long trek back to the pile. This left us a painful amount of time to think. As we got close to the remaining rails and the site where our work day began, I thought about that factory again. I looked out and saw nothing but the slowly darkening sky meeting the graying landscape.

The sky never looked so real to me. The leg irons and a large stone that I had stepped on soon drove my gaze downward where it belonged. The ground looked more firm and real as well, to say nothing of the heavy shackles and the dusty work boots. My feet throbbed in my boots and the leg irons felt like clubs on my ankles; smacking them with every heavy step forward.

When we got back to the pile I saw that only two rails remained. One for each gang, one for each side. We began the long trek back to the end of the line. No one knew or cared how long this road would go. We were nearly done for the day.

When we had stomped back to the bunk car after driving in the last two rails, I had no thoughts of ancient smokestacks or half remembered people from my old life. Though I was exhausted I was walking a bit too quickly for Craig. In his fatigue he stumbled slightly, but luckily it was forward. I managed to prevent him from falling. Feeling his firm chest on my back made my cock go rock hard and touch the inside of my rough denim uniform.

We stepped up into the bunk car which now set on the rails themselves. In front of it was the big cart carrying the crushed rock for ballast. Tomorrow’s work. Ryan crouched and checked each of our leg irons. He gripped my legs firmly, and then patted me forward. He didn’t even look in my face. As happy as I was to see him escape the excruciating labor that I’d have to go through forever, I couldn’t help but wish for him to at least look at me and smile. He had a job to do, and I know he hated to do it. He had to make sure we stayed shackled. Maybe that’s why he didn’t look at me.

It was my first time inside of the rail car that would be our home while we were out here. Craig hobbled up the ladder to get to his bunk, and I saw the chains stretch out. They met the frayed bottoms of his jeans, and encased the tops of his clunky brown work boots. I saw the bunk sink as he lay down, and I almost wanted to reach up and grab it. We were all too tired to talk, and my left arm wrenched with pain from carrying the rails all day.

I don’t know why, but I thought of nothing but Craig. I just wanted to sit next to him and have a smoke and a chat, but here on the chain gang, if you weren’t working you were sleeping; or trying to as the case was with me. My cock grew rock solid, and I finally unzipped my thick denim pants.

As I stroked my cock, I could see nothing but my own leg irons, and my work boots meeting the thick white stripes on my pants. I craned my neck to see Stan’s back across the aisle. “CHAIN GANG” read bright and white on his faded black shirt, and on the back pocket of his pants. I looked away from the oil lamp lit car, and I turned to the bars. A soft night breeze blew across the ground and through the bars. I stroked harder as I looked at the bars, and the chains on my ankles rattled a bit. When I came close to cumming, I stuck my cock right out of the bars. I stroked a few more times, and unloaded.

“Good. Won’t have to clean that up.” I thought. Then I really began to miss Craig. It was as if I had jerked it only from necessity. I was more worried about cleaning it up than I was about gratification. This chain gang was starting to drive the compassion out of me.

“Can’t let that happen. Won’t.” I thought. I stuck my hand up, and rubbed Craig’s butt through the thin mattress and the grating. I heard a silent chuckle coming from him. That’s all we both needed. I smiled, and passed out, my cock hanging out.

When the morning bell rang, I awoke quickly, and saw my flaccid cock laying there like a breakfast sausage. It was quickly going hard with morning wood and I quickly threw it back in my pants, zipped and buttoned them. It was too late.

“Had a little fun last night convict?” Said Boss Alan who had been staring right at me as he rang the bell. Baton still in his hand, he landed the thing on my gut with one hard smack.

I coughed and grabbed my gut which was searing with pain. He had left the shocker on a low setting. “There’s your morning meal convict. Let’s see if you’re still hungry at midday.”

I sat up, and then stood. Craig gave me a worried look. He had jerked it as well but the bosses were none the wiser. I could see the guilt written on every convict’s face when they looked at me rubbing my gut. I wished that they hadn’t felt that guilt. It wasn’t their fault. Then I realized that it wasn’t guilt they felt. It was solidarity. They didn’t want to see one of their own go hungry all day, but on the chain gang there was nothing they could do for me other than let me know “I’m here man. I know how it is.”

I drank plenty of water as the rest of the convicts ate. I had some vain hope that it would fill up my stomach. Lucky for me, it would be a fairly easy start to the day. Laying down ballast was some of the easiest work a convict could do, though that isn’t saying much. It was still hard work.

There were several barrows, and a few ox boys stood by the open cart with the ballast with huge metal snow shovels. They had filled most of the barrows up.

“Alright, get at it!” Shouted Alan. I didn’t know quite what to do, but I knew that I had to move. Luckily, Stan beat me to a barrow, and he grabbed one. A few convicts behind him in his gang grabbed big metal dirt tampers and shovels which had been lined up. I too grabbed a barrow, Craig grabbed a tamper, and Miner grabbed two shovels; one for me, and one for him. Seth, the big guy who was on Miner’s back grabbed another dirt tamper. This was familiar work to him apparently as he had been on the chain gang longer than any of us. He was there on my first term sweating his ass off in a boiler suit, and he was still here now. I was shocked to hear him speak to me.

“You’re a good lead dude. Knew you on the quarry.” he grunted under his breath as he walked beside me, leg irons clanking.

“Thanks. I remember you too man. God damn I can’t believe they haven’t let you off this shit yet.” I replied kind of awkwardly. I couldn’t believe the guy was speaking.

“Yeah, I remember you good. Gave a few bosses a run for their money.” He said “Rememberin shit like that’s been keeping me going.”

“Yeah. Guess my luck’s run out. I’m here for a 5 spot at least.” I replied in an even lower tone.

“That’s at least a number.” he said. I knew what he meant. What neither of us knew was when he would be removed from the chain gang and put back into general population. I didn’t know how long it’d be for Craig either.

“CUT THAT CHATTER!!” Boss Alan wailed down on Seth with his strap, and he dropped the tamper. He scrambled to pick it back up. “If you aint talking about that fucking rock, you better put a lid on it dickhead!!”

“Better talk about this rock then.” Said Seth as we reached the rails we had laid the day before. He looked at Boss Alan with a kind of contempt. I couldn‘t believe the emotions I was seeing come out of this usually silent lump of a man. “Nothing to it really. Just shovel it out and dump it between the ties. Have to get it even. Then when it’s all out, we’ll tamp it down.”

There really was nothing to it. It was hot out, and we were working, but there was none of the toil we usually experienced. It took a long time for me to break a real sweat, and even longer for me to think about taking off my shirt. I got a shovelful of rock, and dumped it between the ties. Miner did the same. I was shocked to see Seth and Craig just standing there with the dirt tampers in their hands. This was the only time of day when they’d be inactive though. The first load.

Me and Miner walked back to the car to get another load of rock while Seth and Craig started to pound down between the ties with the flat end of the dirt tampers. The leg irons still slammed against my ankles, but the feeling was becoming second nature to me. This was the limit of my stride and of my world, and I had to take every square inch I could.

We got back with the next load of gravel, and the load we had just shoveled out was still being pounded down by Craig and Seth. I saw Craig’s long, hard arms shake as the flat head of the tamper landed on the gravel. I set the barrow down, and started to shovel again. The only things on my mind were my shovel, the gravel, and my buddies. For a split second, I looked over, and didn’t see convicts. I saw three guys working hard and sweating. We could have been construction workers only 8 hours away from the weekend and a few cans of beer.

Boss Alan barked an order at Ryan about water, and it was back to reality for me. We weren’t 8 hours away from cold beer; we were 25 hours away from a pile of beans, a cramped train car, and a hard bunk. Weekend? What the hell is a weekend? The only way I could tell if a week had passed was if I was taking a shower, and I hadn’t taken one of those in a long time. I took one look at the words “chain gang” stamped on the wide, dirty leg of Seth’s uniform and remembered.

The day went just like that, over and over again. Shovel the gravel out, tamp it down, and get another load. Another load, another load, another load. Gravel filled up the gap between the ties, and our boots turned the same dusty grey color.

Midday came, and I wasn’t as tired as I normally would have been. If it hadn’t been for the leg irons and the hard assed boss, I would have been playing grab ass with everyone and joking around, but I just sat and drank water while everyone else ate.

My stomach groaned, and I got a little light headed. “Was it worth it Matt? Jerking off?” I took a quick glance at Craig gumming another spoonful of beans. His brow wrinkled a bit as he chewed, and his eyes were slanted right down at his beans. His hands were caked with dirt, and covered in cuts and nicks. His nails were full of dirt and he seemed to pulsate in the mid day sun. “Yeah. Worth it.” I said

A few hours after the meal, we finished up with the last load of gravel. Alan looked impressed, but he couldn’t say so to the chain gang. We weren’t supposed to feel proud or satisfied. We were supposed to feel beat down and locked up. I hadn’t noticed it, but while we had dumped the gravel down, another truckload of ties had been dropped off. I looked at the big cube of wood and I rubbed my forehead. I cracked my back as best as I could, and I bent down; rubbing my booted, chained ankles.

“ALRIGHT, BACK TO WORKIN. GET AT THEM TIES.”

So much for an easy day. A convict never had one. I guess the easiest days we had were the type where there was a bit of a breeze, but out here in the wastelands those were few, far between, and entirely ruined by blowing sand. Once again, me and Craig lifted a tie, and struggled forward as quickly as we could to set it down. Shackles slammed into my legs as a stumbled forward, my hands were burned by the weight of the tie, and my back knotted up. Before we even walked back to get another, my chest was heaving. Craig and I barely made eye contact while we carried the ties back and forth.

Another day, another set of ties, more rails, more ballast, more sweat, more of the strap. I never really had an opportunity to stop and think, though that was a good thing. What could I have thought about? “How much longer? How did I end up here? How long have I been here?” Questions like that make your irons heavier, your breath shorter, and the denim on your legs stiffer and rougher. I was glad that my mind was always blank, and that my muscles were always sore.

One day, close to sunset we were carrying rails again. Being in front of the gang had its problems, but it did give me a good chance to steal a glance at the horizon. I didn’t have a chance to look when we were setting down the ties, but as the gang dropped the solid, heavy rail on the ground, I looked up and saw a huge, expansive quarry. The rock face was orange in the setting sun, but I could see the small forms of convicts swinging sledgehammers. I almost thought I saw the patches of white canvass that bore their numbers. As we hefted the rail up onto the ties and picked up our sledgehammers to drive the spikes in, I got another good look at my own uniform. Once again, the words “CHAIN GANG” stared up at me like a slap in the face.

“You aren’t down there. You don’t know whether you’ll ever be there again, whether you’ll sleep in a bunk, a cage, or flat on the ground.” Despite the heavy irons, I felt like I was floating, or teetering on the edge of something. I knew I’d always be a con, but would I ever finish this punishment detail? Would I ever be able to take a free step again? It almost would have given me comfort to know that I wouldn’t. It would have, but for the crippling hunger in my heaving gut.

The next day, we were going to finish the railroad. It led right down into the quarry where general labor convicts ground on as they always had and always would. I saw smoke rising from a chimney in the bunkhouse from last night’s fire and I smelled beans cooking for their midday meal. I had abstained from jerking off the night before, so the aroma made me smile rather than wince with hunger.

The only convicts I could see were trusties, but I heard the clank of hammers on rocks mingled with “Wipin it off boss!” from down in the quarry. Good god how I wanted to join them down there. I wanted to bust up rocks at my own quick pace, shoot a quick joke between swings, sit in the bunkhouse at the end of the day and roll a joint, or just lay around and bullshit, but I couldn’t do those things out here. Those letters on my legs and the chains on my ankles held me back, but gave me nowhere to go. I felt uneasy, unsure, and dog tired.

“Alright boys. This job’s done. Them rails lead right here. We’re heading back to camp tonight.” Even as he spoke, the truck rolled up, and shuddered as it shifted into park. I had been too intent on the sound of the general population down in the quarry to notice the headlights.

“Let’s go! Load er up!” we mindlessly hobbled to the trucks, and up the ramps into the cage. Each eye on each dirty face was cast down on the dirty ground, the dirty boots, and the dull, dirty chains. We were going back to the rocks, and probably back to the boss with no name. When a convict thought of the word “boss” it was his face they thought of, even if they hadn’t seen it before. He was the real punishment on the chain gang. The chains were tough, and you could ignore them if you just busted your ass, but the boss man would always remind us where we were, and what we were in the best way he could think of.

Chapter 47-

I remembered thinking in the early days of my sentence that I’d probably loose track of the time at some point; that all the hard labor, lashes, sunburn, and bland food would make me forget anything else. For once I was absolutely right. We were locked in the back and unsupervised as we had been when we rode out to begin working on the rails, but now that we were going back to the rocks we were all silent. Most of us slept, but I was wide awake and staring into nothingness. I don’t know how the other guys managed to sleep standing up, but enough hard work will do strange things to a man. It was a little soothing not being able to see my uniform, my tanned dirty arms, or my leg irons, but I could feel the thick denim, smell our ripe body odor, and hear the chains. You can’t escape this shit, and you can’t forget.

Craig snored behind me and I clenched my teeth as I thought about him having to serve more than twice the time I did on the chain. I felt completely empty. I tried and tried to shove those thoughts out of my head. I’d be back on the rocks tomorrow, and I was the lead man. If I fucked up, the whole gang did. I needed to sleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking. Every part of me ached. I was used to that feeling, but it was sharper than it ever had been.

The truck jammed to a halt and my eyes snapped open. Somehow I had managed to sleep, but it didn’t feel like enough. It never really did. Everyone else woke up and we all felt conscious of each other as if we were all one animal.

The doors opened letting a stifling blast of light and heat blow into the truck. Ryan and another trusty slammed some planks down for us to shuffle out of the truck, and quickly ran off to see to some other odd job.

“Alright, file on out!!” A gravel voiced silhouette said as he indicated the direction he wanted us to go with a long strap of leather. I knew that gravely voice. Boss Anonymous himself. That dry, crackly voice had howled “ALRIGHT WORK!” hundreds of times, and like a dumb obedient mutt, I shouted “GO ON LIFT!” while raising a sledge high up and bringing it down. 19 other convicts did the same and grunted like the mules they were. Now it was beginning again, and I knew that it’d go on as long as the boss man wanted it to. We were his property, and he made damn sure we were put to good use.

Boots stomped and good god the sound of the chains was deafening. I couldn’t help but look down at them as I hobbled down the plank and out into the white heat of the morning sun.

“Line em up here!” The boss man stood some ways away from the truck and motioned where he wanted us with his coiled up prison strap. I knew to keep my eyes front where they belonged, so I only heard the truck’s engine roar as it rolled away and left us behind. The boss man walked over to us. His heavy, proud, black harness boots kicked up the dry white dirt. “Well boys, welcome back to camp! I hope ya’ll enjoyed the little vacation. I sure did. Went fishin, swimmin, and had a few barbeques. But that can’t last forever. It’s high time for us to be getting back to workin. Wouldn’t you agree boy? Speak up!” He looked me dead in the eye. I could see he was just itching to use that strap in his hand, but I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of bringing it on myself.

“YEAH BOSS!” I yelped like the sunburned, slow minded convict they had shaped me into.

“That’s what I like to hear! Well, I won’t waste no more of your time convicts. SHOULDER UP!!” Craig’s solid, strong hand slammed down on my solid hard shoulder and gripped it tight. That was my bud. He literally had my back. The boss pointed to the same rows of crushed rock we had left behind while we worked the rails. How long did that rail line take us to build? Months? Probably years. I didn’t know. It felt like a long time. Everything felt like it a long time, because everything took a long time. Lifting up my shackled booted foot and setting it down again might as well have taken an hour, despite the fact that we were actually moving quickly for a chain gang.

We lined right up and locked right into place. The final stomp of boots rattled the chain in a harsh single note. Hammers were lined up by the rocks as if we had just dropped them. The boss man didn’t waste any time. “ALRIGHT WORK!!” I hefted the sledge as he barked the order in my ear, and lifted it high over my head.

“GO ON LIFT!!” I belted out with the full force of my gut as I lifted my sledge high.

“HUH!!” the other convicts hammers fell in a rolling unison as they grunted like the dumb animals they were.

“GO ON LIFT!”

“HUH!”

“GO ON LIFT!”

“HUH!”

God damn, just like that it started again, and it dragged on and on. That same long grind through the day on the chain gang. Every swing of the hammer, every break, every meal, and every grunt planned out, and repeated. If there was anything of an individual in any of us, it couldn’t break out of those chains or the heavy stripes on our jeans; or dodge the leather strap that gave us heavy red stripes on our backs. We belonged to the boss man, and that was it.

And we kept on drilling and drilling. The same stupid grunting, those same stupid words for hours. “Go on lift.” I mean what the hell else were we supposed to do with these hammers? Shove the damn things up our butt, and try to shoot them out at the rocks? How would that command sound belted out at the top of my lungs? As that comical thought crossed my mind, I let crack a little bit of a smirk, and a half giggle as I again shouted “GO ON LIFT!”

“HOLD UP!!!” Fuck. I was in for it now. The whole gang stopped, and stood breathing heavily. Craig shook, and shot quick nervous glances over at me, but tried to make it look like his eyes were on his work. “Find something funny convict? Speak up!”

“NO BOSS!!” I belted out.

“Then WHY YOU LAUGHIN BOY?!” He got right up in my face. He didn’t even flinch at the stink coming from the filth that covered every inch of me. He let the coiled up strap fall down. Most of the gang just stood with their eyes down at their boots. Craig tried like hell to look in my direction, but he kept his head down like everyone else.

“BOSS I HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR MY BEHAVIOR BOSS. I’M JUST A DUMB FUCKUP.” I don’t know what exactly made me say those words. Maybe I believed them. I didn’t know. The sun was dead overhead, and it was the heat of the day. I was hot, sweaty, hungry, and tired. I almost didn’t care what happened to me. Innocent or no, I was on this chain gang, and I was just a dumb fuckup.

“Drop em.” The bossman said as if on cue. My dirty fingernails moved toward my fly, and undid it. My pants fell heavy around my ankles, and kicked up a bit of dust. “You’re right boy. You’re just a dumb fuckup. You’re MY dumb fuckup. Ain’t nobody going to know or care if I keep you or any of you other filthy little fuckups out here forever. Only way you’re getting back to general population, is when I think you’re dumbed down enough to keep your stupid ass in line. Till then, you’re just my personal little fuck toy. Got me boy?”

“YEAH BOSS!” I shouted out not even thinking about what he had said. All I knew was that something was going to happen to my ass. That something was his strap. He had no interest in fucking me that day. He just wanted to hear my yelp and watch me tear up. He stepped behind me.

WHACK.

Craig had his eyes clenched shut and winced every time he heard me grunt. The rest of the gang was just relieved to be standing still for a minute. They didn’t want to think about the kind of pain I was going through, and I didn’t blame them for that. I was just as tired as any of them. I would have been glad to be able to just stand still and catch my breath.

WHACK.

He’d smacked my ass hard close to 20 times now, and a few of the guys had actually stopped sweating. Now they had the time and the luxury to feel bad for me, and they had their eyes clenched just as tight as Craig did. WHACK. One final time, and it was done.

“Alright pull em back up boy.” I grabbed the filthy pile of jeans, and pulled them back up, easing them over my sore ass. When I had buttoned them back up, the boss man kicked me square in the ass, and I fell face first down on the rocks.

“Now THAT’S funny boy.” He said, and spit on my bare back. He didn’t even laugh. He just yanked me back up by my pants, and shouted out “WORK IT LOOSE!!”

I snatched my sledge back up, and gave the call. “GO ON DRILL!”

“HUH!” The rest of the gang shouted out at different times as they scrambled for their hammers.

“WAY OUTTA LINE GANG.” the boss man said. “ONE MORE FUCK UP TODAY, AND WE’RE GETTING DOWN THE CAGES!!”

That sent hammers swinging and dust flying. There wasn’t one other thought in anyone’s mind. Work. That was it. Work to stay out of the cages. I wasn’t even thinking about how sore my ass was. It might as well just be the general fatigue I felt any day.

This was the grind. I had nothing on my mind but the sledgehammer and the rocks. There was sweat raining down from my bare pecs and my red sunburned forehead, the chains were digging into my ankles, and my uniform pants stunk to high heaven, but I didn’t think about any of that. It was kind of a relief. I had one responsibility in life. Make rocks smaller with a sledgehammer. That was my whole existence. It didn’t matter how I felt about it. That’s just the way it was, and the way it would be. The way it is. A big erection broke that simple train of thought. I don’t know as though I felt I deserved that kind of life, but I think I started to realize that I had needed it since I was born.

Later on it was back to drills, back to work songs, midday meal, water breaks. It all started to run together. If you had to do it for a few months you would know. You’re out there with the lowering sun turning your forehead into bacon, breathing deep, and forcing your tired arms to keep going. You don’t think about how you got there, what other people were doing, or what would happen to you. It’s just you, the convicts you’re in with, and another pile of rock that needed to become gravel. And of course, there was the boss man always staring you down.

I really don’t know what possessed him to take the same stuff they gave to us to keep us from death. I could tell that he loved making sure we got the discipline he thought we needed, but to never stop doing it? Wasn’t that the same kind of life us cons had? Too much sun can make a man stupid. He didn’t have to stay here and keep guarding us. While we built a railroad, he was off doing whatever he wanted. He could do what he wanted with an entire lifetime while we built, maintained, and demolished the same rail line. No he didn’t have to stay here. We did. We were convicts. We fucked up, and we had to pay for it hard. We were good for nothing but physical, repetitive, dirty, menial work, and the boss man loved seeing us get what we had coming.

I realized that first day back at camp what was happening to us out there. We were getting our minds on the grind. They were hammering home what we were, where we belonged, and who was in charge. Putting us in our place gave the boss man great satisfaction. Though I couldn’t see his face, I could just feel the snide but righteous smile he gave every time he kicked a convict to the ground, or laid into us with a quick surprise strap. There was something more though.

I’d gotten my fair share of whip marks that day, and so did Craig and Seth, but the boss barely paid any attention to the other 7 guys. Most of the time, he stood behind Craig or Seth, breathing hot and heavy through his nostrils like a bull in heat. When we turned around to pound out the last pile of rocks for the day, I saw his fly open with his cock hanging out, hard as a rock and stiff as a tree. He had been staring at the sinewy, filthy backs of Craig and Seth, but what was so special about them? All of us looked like that.

The hard work and the hot sun must have killed a few brain cells here and there. I thought about that tent in the boss man’s pants as we stomped towards the bunkhouse for the night. I couldn’t figure out why he had barely moved toward the other guys. Cal had been slacking all day, not that I blamed him, and the other gang’s backs were totally clear of any of the strap marks they’d usually have. Was the boss man losing his edge? Nope, my sore ass was proof he hadn’t, but why pick on my man?

It didn’t take long for me to leave that question for later. I was very much the dumb convict that night with nothing on my mind but how tired and hungry I was. I sat on the bucket, pushed out a few turds, wiped, pulled up my pants, and flopped down on my bunk. I was out, and so were the lights.

Chapter 48

Another pile of rocks, another swing of the sledge, another mercifully cold drink of water, another pile of beans. Dirty hands, man stench, rough denim stiff with dirt or heavy with sweat, and two heavy chunks of iron on your feet all the time. You couldn’t even escape it in your sleep, and there was a part of your mind that was so used to it, you almost didn’t want to escape it.

It was that way all the time for a convict, no matter what detail you were doing, but in the general population you could at least unwind at the end of the day and share some comical jabs at your common misery. All you had on the chain gang was a rough strong hand on your back. Enough to keep you going, but it was small comfort.

The boss man did eventually pay more attention to the rest of the gang, but he still had a few extra straps and insults for Craig and Seth.

“Alright boy. Bend on over.” He said to Craig one day. I heard pants quickly drop. This was all routine for us, but that day the boss man decided to break with tradition. I heard Craig moan as I continued to work but the boss man moaned longer. It had been a long time.

It was abnormally hot that day. We were used to heat, but this was particularly brutal. I remembered Craig’s words from the early days. “Easier but never easy.” The heat made us feel so down and dog tired that we might as well have been new meat. I was getting sweat in my eyes. The boss man hadn’t let us take off our black shirts, and I could swear that my bare arms were generating their own heat.

And among all the other sensory tortures of this hellish environment, there was the sound of Craig; the man I’d come to love, getting fucked by a boss who had seen and kicked so many convicts asses that he probably couldn’t tell them apart.

I took another swing of the sledge. Me and Miner had been there longer than our original 500 year sentence, but we didn’t know that. All we could think of was the heat and the work. It was like the atmosphere was disappearing that day or something. My eyes were getting literally poached in my sockets.

“You’re mine boy.” boss man whispered. “Maybe we’ll keep you around convict. Keep you in chains boy.”

I wanted to throw my sledge on the ground and kick the boss man’s ass. There was really no reason why I shouldn’t. But something held me back. Maybe it was the way he said “You’re mine boy” to Craig, but I realized that he absolutely owned us out here, and if we wanted out, we had to keep our eyes on those rocks, and our hands on those hammers.

And of course like the tired, dumb, stinking farm animal that I was, I kept working. Craig clenched his teeth, and groaned like someone was sawing off his hand. Finally the boss man grunted hard and shouted “Fuck yeah boy. That’s my hole right there.” If I had dared to take my eyes off the rocks I was breaking I would have seen that the boss was looking right at me as he said this. There wasn’t anything I could have done for Craig. There wasn’t anything Craig could have done the many times I’d been abused by the guards. It was all sinking in. I didn’t put up a fight. I didn’t even curse under my breath, which I easily could have done without any fear or punishment. I just kept working. When Craig had pulled up his pants, straightened out his back, and grunted, He was back to work too. As cum seeped out of his hole, sweat streamed out of his back, pits, and forehead.

The gallons of sweat that had seeped out of me Craig, and Miner out there on the chain gang took with it any notion we had about being treated like anything but the dumb convict shit we were. Any pride, ideas about deserving justice, and willingness to resist was seeping into the rocks and dust under our chained feet.

“HOLD UP!” The boss man hollered. “PICK EM UP!” We lifted our chains and held them in the same hand as our sledgehammers. “SHOULDER UP!” Craig’s hand slapped down on my dirt streaked, sweat soaked shoulder. “ROLL OUT SHUFFLE, LEFT, LEFT, LEFT” The chain gang stomped back to the bunkhouse. Another work day done and another coming up quick. No arguments, no complaints, and no questions.

“GET ON UP!” I had just laid down 15 seconds ago. That’s what it felt like anyway. I tried to reach down and hold up my lead chain, but my hands were stopped by shackles that were chained to my bedpost. I had an obvious case of morning wood scraping against the rough fly of my dirty jeans, but I had to forget that. Oh I would have stroked it through the night if my arms weren’t chained up. I couldn’t now, because a trusty was setting my arms free. They were being set free so that they could pick up a sledgehammer and break rocks all day; the only use the world had for them.

God almighty I was horny. “Oh well, at least I’ll get breakfast.” I thought as I massaged my forehead with my firm, filthy hands. God damn, that’s right. I had to get up. The rest of the cons got to sit there another minute or two while I did the first work of the day.

“PICK EM UP!” The rest of the gang lifted their lead chains while I got up and held the long chain in my hands.

“PULL ER’ THROUGH!” The boss shouted. Hand over hand I pulled that heavy chain and it piled up on top of my boots.

“FALL IN!” I slid my boots out from under the heavy mass of chain, hobbled and clanked to the front of the line in front of Craig. The work chain was threaded through our leads by a chunky convict in overalls.

“SHOULDER UP!” Hey Craig. Hang in there man.

“ROLL OUT SHUFFLE, LEFT, LEFT, LEFT” we stomped the floorboards and rattled our chains out to the same pile of rocks we had left behind the night before. Different rocks, same pile. Same day, same life.

There was something different.

We lined up behind the rocks, and no commands were given. Everyone just shut their eyes trying to get a little bit more sleep as they stood there. It was still a little chilly from the night, but we could feel the first blazing rays of sunlight filtering through the horizon. We always faced east at the beginning of the day, but it wasn’t a big deal. We were staring at the rocks, not the sun. As we finished each day, we were usually facing west, and again, staring at the rocks.

That day though, I stared with my eyes shut towards the slowly rising sun. As I cracked them open a bit, I saw a dark boxy thing. A truck. Two men were sliding off it. One fell right on his ass. Before I could make sense of this though, I felt a hand on my leg irons, and heard a clang.

I snapped my neck up, and looked right at Craig. We just stared right into each other’s eyes. Clang, clang, clang. The tremor shook up my whole leg. We couldn’t speak to each other but we knew what was happening. For the second time in my long life at hard labor, me and Craig were going to be separated.

Sure I was just a dumb con now. I knew there was nothing I could do about it, but I still loved that man. He helped me drag my fat ass through the first years of hard labor as all my fat and laziness dripped away with my sweat drop by drop. If he had food and I didn’t he shared it with me. I did the same with him. He was the best friend I ever had, and good god did I love him.

We just stared. He gave a bit of a nod. I saw his firm, sculpted neck covered in dirt, and his rock hard arms sticking out through that faded black shirt. I shut my eyes, but no tears came. There were ox boys at Miner’s feet too, and he stared at both of us with stern eyes.

Clang, clang, clunk. It felt like a cast coming off. The left leg iron dropped to the ground, and then the right. My ankles felt colder than the rest of my legs. Two lumps of old denim flopped down in front of us. They were filthy, ragged, old, and smelled slightly of sickly old pine sap. There was a grey patch on them that was once white, and I could faintly see some writing on them.

“Shuck em convicts. You’re done.” The boss man said to us. I untied my boots, and kicked them off. They peeled off my feet and fell with a thud on the ground. I unbuttoned the heavy pants, and the stripes gave one final cling against my legs as they fell down. My legs blazed white, and my purple cock pointed right out. I also ripped off the damp, black shirt on my back, and it landed on top of the jeans, the words “CHAIN GANG” flapping limp in a tiny breeze, that didn’t cool anyone down.

I then picked up that old pair of jeans, and they felt like tissue paper compared to the heavy chain gang uniform I had worn for so long. There was a thick canvass patch with some unreadable numbers in faded black, on grey. They smelled musty as if they had been sitting around in some closet for hundreds of years, which they had been. My cock rubbed against them, and after the heavy pants I’d been wearing on the chain gang they felt like silk on my dick.

Just as on my first day, Miner pulled his uniform on too. I could remember him the way he was; his younger face humbled by his new status. “This is all we get man.” That’s what he said. A pair of jeans, a thin t shirt, and a pair of work boots, that I threw back on, and tied loosely. That’s all we got back then
and all we got that day.

I stood back up, and cracked my back. I stared back at the gang. Craig didn’t stare at me, or at the new inductees that were getting that stupid speech from the boss man. He kept his eyes where they belonged. The rocks and the chains. I shut my eyes, and two hot tears rolled out. No more followed for a long time.

“Let’s go convicts. Time’s a wastin.” Said the driver of the truck.

As I snapped out of it, me and Miner walked to the truck. God it’s funny how a convict’s mind works. Something was significant to me about the fact that I was walking with a full stride rather than shuffling. But despite the fact that my legs felt light with their newfound freedom, I had a heavy patch on my thigh that was trying to tell me something.

“You’re a number. Nothing else. You’re a strong pair of arms and legs boy. Nothing more than that. Don’t forget that ever again. You don’t know the number yet, but once you do, you’ll have a place. You have an identity as small as it is. You’re locked up, you’re worked every day, and you’ll never get out. You’re a convict. You’re a number. Nothing else. That‘s what you were always meant to be.”

The system must have worked. I had no great desire to put up a fight, or even to resist my status like I had that day in the timber camp. I was going to do what I was told, and nothing else. So were Miner and Craig. God damn I was going to miss him, though there was nothing I could do about it. I’d just have to keep grinding on the same way he did the first time we were separated.

Miner and I staggered up on to the flatbed of the truck. Our legs were heavy and unsteady despite not working yet that day. When we flopped down, Miner gave me a pat on the back, and didn’t take his hand away.

“I’m sorry man. Don’t worry bout him. He’ll do alright.” he said in a low, but trembling tone. We were both so shocked to not be locked in leg irons that our voices shook a bit.

“Thanks man. I know.” I said, but I was sick to my stomach with the anxiety of leaving a man that I loved behind in that hell. I kept thinking about it, imagining all the worst scenarios.

“God damn, they’re going to put him in one of those boiler suits.” I thought to myself, “Or back in those god damn cages.”

“Dude, he’ll do alright. I’m tellin ya.” Miner shook me in friendship. “You went through it without him, he can too.”

“But all that god damn time…..He’s going to be there for…”

“Buddy, it ain’t even gonna be a drop in the bucket. You know how long we’re really here for.” Miner reminded me.

“Yeah, I know.” His words were little comfort.