Life at Hard Labor chapters 49-50

Author: Fumpa
Title: Life at Hard Labor Chapters 49-50
Date: 04 June 2012

Chapter 49

It was a long drive to get to wherever they were taking us. We’d probably only have to work half the day. Small consolation when you know you’re going to work all of the next, and then all of the day after that, and so on. Even smaller consolation given the fact that I had to leave Craig behind on that chain gang. Miner had given up on trying to talk sense into me, and was looking at the landscape.

“Hey, this shit looks kinda familiar don’t it?” he asked as he stared at some railroad tracks.

“Yeah, now that you mention it…” I confirmed his suspicions. The rail lines we had built on the chain gang were flying by like a filmstrip. The ballast was firmly packed under dirt and vegetation, and in a few patches it was newly laid. All while we were smashing rocks into gravel under the hard lash of Boss Anonymous, convicts had been replacing the ties, filling in holes, and realigning the rails that we had laid down a long time ago. They probably didn’t even think twice about who actually laid those rails down, or who drove the spikes, but who could blame them? I don’t think about who built the damn bunkhouse at the end of the day. I’m just thinking about chow, and sleep. That’s what they’re thinking too.

I saw a train speed past in the opposite direction from the one we were going, and in each of the cars was a load of crushed rock. Later on, another one sped past us going in the direction we were. Most of the cars were empty, but some were enclosed, probably carrying supplies. Obviously those rails we built led to and from a big operation.

I remembered those rails led far away from the main prison camp, and into another city. Maybe they were using it on some roads there, or shipping it somewhere else. I’d never know. What I did know was where we were headed for our next detail.

“We’re goin to that quarry man.” I said.

“Shit.” Miner moaned and leaned back.

“You ain’t never did that shit did you? Don’t worry, nothing to it… a lot like the chain gang except you don’t have a bunch of grunting and singing to do. Oh yeah, and no chains.” I said as I rubbed my booted feet. God it felt good not feeling that chunk of metal clamping down on me. I felt bad for Craig after a few moments though, knowing that he was still wearing a pair.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s a real cakewalk.” he said chuckling. I laughed a bit too. All this idle chatting about our next detail made me feel a lot better than hearing ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘he’ll be fine’ every six seconds.

The truck kept driving on through midday until the flat, dry looking landscape became rockier. Finally I saw that quarry that we had built the rail up to. I expected it to look radically different, but the bunkhouses were in the same place, and the quarry itself wasn’t much different. I’m sure it had changed, but my mind was so dulled down from work and sunburn that I probably couldn’t tell.

The truck stopped, and we were motioned to hop down, but as I did so, my jeans ripped right down the ass. “S’alright boy. Get on in there!” He pointed his prod at the bunkhouse, and moved us toward the door. Miner looked at me with a bit of concern. I looked like hell. He did too of course, but I looked worse.

“Let’s go! MOVE!!” The boss snapped his prod in the air, and we were startled into a quick jog to the bunkhouse. Miner’s pants ripped too as we jogged up the steps and into the door.

It looked a lot like the first bunkhouse I saw, and a lot like every other bunkhouse I’d been in, but there were four guys lined up at attention. Two were covered in dirt, and tan, hard muscles. They were obviously convicts. Maybe they had come from another chain gang, maybe they came from another detail or another prison. Whatever the case, it was clear they’d seen hard labor.

The other two guys were definitely new. They were in civilian clothes with soft textures. One looked to be about 19. He wore moth eaten tan pants, and a dingy white button down shirt, like a poor kid who was just getting out of church. His frame was thin, and his hair was longish, but he looked like he’d make a good worker. They’d probably put him on the cane field after they figured out he couldn’t break rocks to save his life. He had a fresh, innocent face which looked like it had been shown its first dose of real life. Shocked and dejected, but still expecting a way out. He’d learn better.

The other looked to be in his late 20’s like me… well like my body anyway. I’d lived way longer than this guy. He looked absolutely terrified, though he was trying to hold it in and look tough. I could tell he was feeling his whole life collapse around him. He wore a thin, light blue shirt with grey pants, and though his hair was short, it was still there, combed back in a cocky way but messed up by the last few days he‘d spent in jail. He had a good frame, but he hadn’t worked much. He has soft, featureless hands. The two new guys were both holding their arms, likely from the shots they’d just received; the shots that’d make them serve their sentences.

“Line up behind them.” the boss said to us while pointing behind the two new guys. “The captain would like to have a few words with you boys.” This was really weird, and it had me worried. Miner gave me a wide eyed, questioning look, and I answered him the same way. Me and Miner lined up behind the new guys, and the two were boxed in by strong, filthy long term convicts. I really wondered what the bosses had in store for all of us. Whenever we’d transferred before, they usually just threw a work tool in our hand and showed us out to the field as soon as possible, but this time they were taking it slow, and putting us next to new meat like we were some kind of show animals. This was both like and unlike my original induction those long years ago. What the hell was going on?

The captain finally walked out. He was stronger than any con, and his arms were huge. He was wearing dark brown pants, and a light brown officer’s shirt, and a cowboy hat. His boots were black and they had a smooth luster on them. He had his arms crossed, and his footfalls shook the walls as he stepped toward us.

“Afternoon boys. Welcome to quarry number 21. This is my work camp. Name is Parker, but you can call me Captain. Now, two of you boys are new to this whole convict thing, and you may not know the game plan. That’s to be expected. You don’t get convicted twice. You fuck up once, and you get sent to a place like this. That’s the way it goes.” He walked over to the two new guys, and got extremely close to them and continued,

“I know the way you boys think. You’ve shown time and time again that you can’t make the right decision. You’ll decide to find some kind of scheme to make something of yourself, or you’ll rely on someone else to clean up after your little fuckups. Then you made the wrong decision one too many times, and so here you are. You didn’t know the two decisions you should have been making. Learn your place in the world, and work hard accordingly. That’s the way you’re supposed to live. I’m pleased to inform you that you won’t have to make any more decisions. You will learn your new place in the world, and believe me you will work hard. We’ve made your decision for you. From now on, you’re lowdown, dirty, stupid convicts, and you’ll work at whatever we assign you. You’ll wear what we tell you, you’ll eat what we give you, and you’ll follow all our orders quickly and without question. There ain’t nothing to do all day but work, and nothing to do all night but sleep. There are no baseballs, board games, or any of that stupid shit. You want entertainment, you’ve got all the entertainment you want in your fellow cons. If you’ll look to your right, you’ll see a few of them now.”

The new guys glanced to either side, and saw us. They saw the pain and sternness in our eyes, and the real filth on our skin. They had smelled us, and now they knew where it came from.

“I want you boys to get a good look at them. They’ve been in a long time. They fucked up a long time ago, and they’re still paying for their crime. They will be forever. Look at their hard muscles, their dirty tan skin, their rough strong hands. These are fucking convicts. They’re the bottom rung. No, they’re not the bottom rung. They’re the dirt under the floor under the bottom rung. They’re dumb, thick headed, illiterate fucking work horses who only do the shit work that decent people don’t have the time or energy for. They bust their asses all day, and they’ll keep right on busting ass. And you know what else? They’re a lot better off than your sorry asses, cause they‘re already used to it. Tomorrow, you’re going to be busting rocks. Making little rocks out of big rocks. Swinging a heavy sledgehammer high over your head and bending over to bring it low to the ground. You little shit wipes won’t last 2 hours out there, but you’re going to keep on trying every day until you can last all day. You’ve got all the time you need. Even you.”

He looked at the younger guy, and got in his face. “I bet you think you got off easy. You did. You’ve got the absolute minimum. Class A. 5 turns mandatory, 1 turn review. I bet you don’t know how long a turn is. You’ll learn. One of those old boys over there has done that much time, and look at him! You’ve got a hard road ahead son, but not as hard as you.” he turned to the older guy. “You have the maximum. Class D. No release, no positive placement. When you look as hard as those boys, you‘re going to have to get comfortable with the fact that you‘re going to have to keep on going.” The older guy struggled to swallow and keep his dry mouth shut. “You look at these convicts. Within about 50 years, you’re not going to be any different. You’ll be that dirty, that strong, and that stupid. That’s what you get when you fuck up the way you did. This is what you need, and what you deserve.”

The two guys were silently trembling when they looked at us. I could tell that their stomachs were churning, and I even thought I saw the older guy’s cock shooting up. I really thought the captain was done with us, and we’d just be let into the bunkhouse. Maybe we were just there as a teaching aid or something.

“As for the rest of you, you’ve been through this shit before. You’ve been serving your sentence, and it shows. You’re strong, you’re hard, and you’re probably thinking this is just another routine. You’re right. You’re proof positive that the system works. Every day of your life has been a hard, physical struggle. Every drop of sweat you’ve pumped out is a small payment towards a debt that will never be entirely repaid. You’re property of the state’s penal labor program, and we like to make sure that our property is put to good use.” He walked over to me, and then paced down to the other old cons.

“You probably don’t realize it, but we’ve been keeping track of you men. We’ve had you digging ditches, chopping wood, growing beans, tilling soil, and of course breaking rocks. We’ve been keeping a record, and trying to see what you boys are best at. As it turns out, you four boys don’t got the brains for the lighter work. You boys are all fucking muscle. Nothin wrong with that. We’ll put that muscle to good use. Now that we know what you’re best at, we know where to put you for good. This is where you’ll be serving the rest of your sentence. You’re getting your permanent work details. And as you’ve probably guessed, you’re going to be breaking rocks. You’ll be doing the same work, all day every day. We might pull you if we’re short handed out on a road detail, but those times are going to be few and far between if they happen at all. And you’d better believe you’ll end up right back here when they’re done. I notice that you boys don’t have any numbers, or if you did they’ve faded beyond recognition. We’ll fix that. You’ll be getting your permanent convict numbers and your permanent bunk assignments. Welcome home boys.” The captain stepped out of the building, and a guard walked up.

Good god, it was like getting inducted all over again, only this time I knew exactly what to expect out of my life. That didn’t make it any easier to hear. Breaking rocks forever. Fucking god. It was going to be nothing but sledgehammers, and lifting rocks into wheelbarrows. 20 hours a day, every day. No quitting early and playing grab-ass if we met our quota of lumber. No finding interesting crap thrown in a ditch. Just fucking rocks and hammers. I clenched my eyes shut. I could take it. I know I could. The worst part was that I didn’t know if Craig would land here too, if he ever got off the chain that is.

“Alright! STRIP DOWN!!!” The boss said. Easy enough for me and Miner. I untied my boots, kicked them off, and then tore my jeans clean off. I knew the drill. The new meat however didn’t. “I SAID STRIP DOWN COCKSUCKER!!” he was right in the younger guy’s face, shouting at the top of his lungs. The new kid still wore some ratty long johns which were too warm for this climate. He struggled to crawl out of them. The older new guy had looked right over at us, and saw that we had stripped our jeans right off, and didn’t have any underwear. He saw our cocks hanging out, and he damn near passed out. “YOU GOT A HEARING PROBLEM CONVICT, OR WERE YOU JUST GETTING CAUGHT UP IN THE SCENERY?! STRIP THE FUCK DOWN!!!” the boss screamed in his face, and he dropped his clean white briefs.

“Alright, now THROW YOUR CLOTHES IN THIS BIN!! There was already a mass of denim in there, and it didn’t look clean. The new guys picked up their old clothes and tried to fold them until the boss man put an end to it. “IN THE BIN CONVICTS!!” they threw them in, and they were followed by four pairs of old, filthy denim jeans. The older guy watched his clothes get covered by the worn out convict uniforms, and he choked a little bit.

“Sit down on the bench faggots!” The boss said. We all walked over and sat down on a long grey wooden bench. My nuts felt cold on the wood. The new guys kept their legs firmly together trying to protect their cocks. “Keep your head still!” He said and then I heard a buzzing sound. Finally a fucking haircut. Though my hair wasn’t long, it was pretty thick and dirty from months of neglect. They shaved us pretty sporadically out there, or at least it seemed that way.

Of course the new guys weren’t as thrilled as I was about the prison’s grooming practices. I could feel the bench shake as they shaved the larger new guy. When they had finished with him, I glanced over to find him patting the back of his head, and staring into space. I guess he really liked his hair. I dimly remembered my first shave. It was carried out by a trustee and we were alone. It actually felt good to be rid of that long hair to me, but I guess everyone’s different. The new guy probably took good care of his hair. Probably spent 15 minutes every morning getting it just right. He wouldn’t have that time here. He wouldn’t need it either. His eyes were red, and it made me feel a little bad for him. I wanted to give him a little talk as soon as I could.

When they finally got to me, the buzzers felt like they were shaving off a helmet of filthy hair. Just like my first day, I was glad to be rid of it. They kept you filthy for a reason out on a chain gang. They wanted to make you feel like an animal. Now they were making me feel like a convict again and it felt right and just. I knew I deserved everything I got. I deserved those leg irons for as long as I wore them, and I deserved that filthy hair that was now on the floor. I’d been punished properly for my insubordination and I knew to think twice before pulling shit like that again. Craig would learn that same lesson when he got off the chain.

“ALRIGHT. LINE EM UP RIGHT HERE. LET’S GO!” The boss pointed to the mesh cages where trusties stood ready to get our uniforms. We lined up, and each of the old cons took their old boots with them. They were still good to wear. A trusty stepped out with a tape measure, and took our waist sizes and heights. The new meat shook a lot, and the old cons looked a little confused. I could have told them my waist size. It hadn’t changed in years. When they sized up the uptight looking new guy, he muttered “oh my god.” He was probably worried about that massive boner he was sporting. Probably too worried to notice that he wasn’t alone. Miner and I both had them, and so did one of the old cons and the other new guy. I’d heard them referred to as “fear boners” but in the case of a few of them, I doubted it was from fear.

They wrapped a tape measure around my waist and called out “34, 30! XXL!”

“34, 30! XXL!” the other trustee shouted and pulled down a pair of firm, light blue jeans and a white sleeveless t shirt and got out an ink roller to stamp my number down on them. He then handed them to me through a hole in the cage. They felt rough and new. Usually, I got hand me down jeans from departing class A boys, or guys bound for the permanent punishment detail. Miner and the other old convicts got new jeans as well. I looked across the new guys at them, and gave them a confused look. They gave me one back.

“Alright convicts, Get over there and put em on!” The boss man motioned us back to the benches where a trusty was still sweeping away our hair. The new guys looked at the pile of hair as it was swept up into a dustpan, and put right in the same bin as their old clothes. The trusty then picked up the trash bin and walked out the door with it. The new meat winced as the door slammed behind him

Then they turned their attention to the uniforms. They were buck naked, and holding the only thing they had in the world, the younger guy unfolded one of the pairs of jeans, and looked at the canvass patch where his number was stamped. T-067-A. “Is this all we get?” He turned to us and asked. All he saw were jeans, work boots, and t shirts.

“Yeah, that’s all we get man.” Miner said somberly just as he had to me my first day. I gave him a kind of defeated laugh.

“PIPE THE FUCK DOWN AND GET THEM UNIFORMS ON FAGGOTS.” The boss man belted out.

The kid immediately pulled the pants on. The poor kid was probably used to a cooler climate. It’d be really tough on him. The other new guy looked at his new uniform with a bit of contempt. He looked at his number; J-066-D. He just held it and stared at it. I knew better. I got up, leaned on the bench, and picked them up. My number was M-067-D. I paused a bit at that. If this was my permanent detail, this was probably my permanent number too. I’d be lying in the same bunk every night, and going to the same rock pile every day… forever. I don’t know why, but it made me feel more down than I’d ever felt. I missed Craig so damn much. I wished to hell I could see him put on the same pants with the same number.

“LET’S GO LADIES!!” The boss man shouted and snapped his prod in the air. I was almost as startled as the new meat. I quickly threw them on. I pulled them right up over my cock, and zipped them up. The zipper felt thicker than normal. More durable. Everything about these was different. They were thicker, harder, and a touch darker. Not anything to compare with the heavy pants I wore out on the chain gang, but still pretty rough. I knew full well that would change after a few weeks though. It’d get softer, but never soft. Easier, but never easy. Miner and the other cons were already tying up their boots. I pulled mine apart and slammed my bare foot right in. This was familiar enough. They were the same boots I’d been wearing for 5 years out there on the chain. I remembered when I first put them on, and slid the shackles down over them. God damn I was glad to be rid of those fuckers.

The younger new kid was also tying his boots. He did it like an old con. I’d guessed this kid was probably like a farmer’s son or something. These were probably the first new boots he’d ever had, and he didn’t seem too displeased with them despite what they actually meant. They meant hard ass work, and tired but protected feet. The other new meat was still sitting there buck ass naked with his arms crossed. I wanted to say something, but the boss man was already walking over.

“Is there a PROBLEM HERE CONVICT?!” The guard was right in J-066-D’s face.

“No! NO SIR!!” he answered.

“Then WHAT THE FUCK IS THE HOLD UP CONVICT?!” The guard was spraying warm spit in the new convict’s face.

“Sir, I think… I think they forgot my…my underwear sir!” He already knew what the guard was going to say. He’d seen us slide our pants right on; he just thought he was entitled to something better. He was dead wrong, and now he knew it.

“What the fuck does a dumb, workin ass convict need with fucking underwear?! ANSWER ME THAT CONVICT!”

“Sir, my uh…di..” he couldn’t speak.

“YOUR DICK? THAT WHAT YOU SAID?! THAT’S MINE NOW BOY. YOUR COCK BELONGS TO ME ALONG WITH THE REST OF YOUR SORRY ASS. YOU SHOULD BE GOD DAMN GRATEFUL I DON’T RIP THAT FUCKER OFF RIGHT HERE AND NOW. IS THAT UNDERSTOOD YOU LITTLE FAGGOT ASS SHIT STAIN??!” He was red faced from screaming, and I could see veins popping out next to his eyes. I was fucking terrified. This long term convict was terrified. I’d gone through way worse; hell my ass still hurt from a whooping I got the day before on the chain gang, but I guess it just startled me. I didn’t even want to think about what the new guy must have been thinking as he got the boss man‘s spit in his face.

“Yes sir!” he had nowhere to run, but it looked like he might have tried if he could have.

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU FUCKER!! IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!”

“YES SIR!” he shouted in horror as if his voice were still changing.

“WHAT DO YOU UNDERSTAND CONVICT?!” He obviously had all day. Now that the initial shock was over, I had kind of a selfish thought. Standing there and listening to this guy get bitched at sure beat the hell out of working. If I hadn’t felt so bad for the kid, I’d want him to keep it up so I could get a whole day off.

“SIR, MY ASS BELONGS TO YOU SIR!!”

“AGAIN!”

“SIR, MY ASS BELONGS TO YOU SIR!!”

“LOUDER CONVICT!! THEY DIDN’T HEAR YOU DOWN IN THE FUCKING CANE FIELD!!”

“SIR, MY ASS BELONGS TO YOU SIR!!”

“THAT IS GOD DAMN RIGHT CONVICT!! NOW YOU HAD BETTER PUT THOSE GOD DAMN CLOTHES ON RIGHT GOD DAMN NOW. YOU GOT ME 66?!”

“YES SIR!!” he almost tripped as he plunged his legs into the jeans and zipped them up. He tied his boots like a second grade dropout. Good god it felt good not to be working. I was kind of ashamed that was all I could think about, but I couldn’t help it.

Finally everyone was suited up. The two new guys had been introduced to our limited color palate. Blue, brown, white and grey. Even though their shirts were light, they were rough, and the numbers stamped on the back felt like they weighed a ton. It wasn’t any different for the old convicts, but we had stronger shoulders. We were used to the weight of that number. It was who we were. Sure, we might call ourselves Matt or Craig, but every day at the midday meal, we’d stare at those numbers on our thighs waving in the heat, and know that’s who we really were.

When we were all dressed, I guessed that my little 6 hour vacation was over, but a guard opened the barred door to the bunkhouse and pointed at the two new guys.

“You two boys. In there! Move it!” they walked like cattle through the portal, and the barred door slammed shut behind them. I heard the boss yelling at them and telling them where they’d be bunking down, and what they could expect.

“Enjoy your last day off boys.” I thought, though I knew they wouldn’t. I didn’t. How could you if you were staring at the empty bunks, the rough grey blankets, and your own new uniform, knowing that you couldn’t escape any of them?

“You four, out that door!” another, stronger boss tapped his club on the door leading out of the bunkhouse. He waited for us to exit, and then he followed. I was in the rear, and I could hear his sharp footfalls punctuate our limp, tired plodding. We had just been wearing leg irons for more than 100 years, and walking free takes a bit of getting used to.

“Over there!” He yelled, and pointed to a building with smoke pouring out of a chimney. I could hear the sound of hammers on metal. Miner almost missed a step when He heard it. I saw his boot scrape up a bit of gravel and dust.

We walked around the building and found that one side was totally open. I saw a forge glowing red, and two convicts in overalls pounding away at an anvil. Sparks were flying. Every one of us had a pretty good idea what this meant.

“Alright boys. Line up here.” He lined us up in front of the smith’s building, and beckoned for the convicts inside. They bent down, and struggled to lift something heavy. They came face to face with us, and then I saw what they carried. Four heavy iron balls and chains with a thick shackle. One in each hand. They dropped them in front of each of us, and the balls sunk into the dirt.

The convict in overalls knelt down, and clamped the shackle around my ankle. The other guy ran up with a bucket of hot rivets. “Sorry man.” he said to me under his breath as he reached in the bucket with a pair of tongs. He slid the bolt into the shackle, and I felt the intense heat. Then pound, pound, pound. Clink, clink, clink. The shackle was riveted on.

“Captain’s orders boys. Better get used to it. They ain’t comin off. Ever. Don’t worry, it’ll build them muscles!” He paused for a moment and looked at the sky. “Alright, get back to the bunks convicts. Ain’t enough daylight left to fuck with.” I saw the sun glowing orange in the west. Miner shook his head, and lifted his ball, grunting and straining. I lifted mine up, and though I was strong, it was heavy as all hell. We walked forward, and all I could hear was grunting and clinking. It was like being on the chain gang all over again. I’d be carrying that heavy ass ball with me wherever I went, forever.

When we got in the bunkhouse, we saw the two new guys sleeping on their bunks. The younger one still had his boots on. Those boots looked so free hanging over the bunk. I had wanted to talk to them earlier, but now I was a bit more preoccupied with the chunk of iron I had to lug around with me for the rest of my life. I walked down the bunks. 64, 65, 66, 67. There was my bunk on the bottom. There was a small piece of paper sitting on top of the rolled up blankets. I dropped my ball, and the new meat on the top bunk stirred a bit. I sat down and held the paper, resting my elbow on my knees.

I couldn’t read it. It was all hazy. The letters and numbers didn’t make sense. I tried, and tried, but it didn’t make one bit of sense. Maybe it was all the sun I usually got, messing with my eyes or something. I hung my head down and shut my eyes.

“You alright buddy?” Miner had hopped down and sat in bunk 68 next to me.

“Uh yeah.” I said. My skin felt hot, and my brain felt dull.

“You wanna read mine for me man? Not much point, but what the hell…” He said handing me his paper.

I stared at it. I could see the black ink and the yellowed paper clear as day, but I couldn’t understand one letter. I just stared at it.

“Damn man, you sure you’re alright? Look, we’ll pull through man. It’s only one ankle!” He chuckled a bit, but then he looked at the thing and sunk. Not wanting to stay in a funk the way I was, he tried to cheer me up. “Come on Matt, you always read this shit for us!” Miner hit my leg with the back of his hand in a friendly gesture. Just as he said that, I finally was able to read the paper.

Convict Number M-067-D, MPL-2159
Convict has served 750 years of an eternal sentence
Convict is up for review: NEVER
PERMANENT DETAIL: Rock Quarry # 21
Years Remaining in Detail: N/A
Next Detail: N/A
Strikes: 0
Major Strikes:0
Chain: 2

Permanent detail. It struck me in the gut like a fist. I was sitting there in my bunk, in my uniform, with a ball weighing down the mattress. Miner was sitting across from me, and I saw the same shackle clamped down on his leg too.

“Give it here.” I took the paper from him. “Convict Number M-068-D, MPL-2159. Convict has served 750 years of an eternal sentence. Convict is up for review, never. Permanent detail, rock quarry number 21. Years remaining in detail, NA. Next detail, NA. Strikes zero, major strikes zero, chain 2. God damn identical to mine except for the number buddy.” I patted the heavy ball sitting beside me. “Looks like this is it man.”

“Looks like it.” He said leaning back. “But hell if it don’t look like we actually get a night off!”

We didn’t get much of one. I heard a stampede of work boots thumping the wooden floors, and a few chains rattling. It was still one of the saddest sights I’d ever seen. Filthy blue denim, scuffed, dirty brown work boots, deep tanned arms, dingy white shirts with big black numbers. Eyes were cast down in fatigue, or upward trying to get the kinks out of the neck. A few carried heavy irons balls like the ones me and Miner wore. One had a thick frame, and short, dirty blonde hair. He stared down at the floor, watching where his boots stomped, and leaning with the weight of an iron ball.

He dropped the ball down on his bunk, and didn’t see Miner sitting there. He held his head, and then leaned back expecting a pillow, but finding Miner’s hard torso.

“What the…. FUCKING GOD DAMN!!” He hit his head on the top bunk as he leapt back.

“How you doin Buck?” Miner said as he stretched out his hand.

“Miner you (edited)!!” buck took his hand, and the two moved in for a firm, short hug. “And god damn it’s Matt!” he grabbed my shoulder and patted my back. “hell yeah how you boys doin?!”

“Well, one leg free’s better than none…” Said Miner.

“Yeah, how you like that shit?” Buck said as he patted his ball and chain. “I don’t know what the hell we did, but they slapped these damn things on a lot of us.”

“What happened at the Timber camp after we left?” I said.

“Wha? Oh yeah, bout 3 years after you boys left they shipped me and Mark outta there, we did road work for a while, had us do cane for a season, and then they slammed us down here. Mark read my papers for me. Looks like I ain’t goin nowhere.”

“Where’s Mark?” I asked.

“They got him in the box man…” said Buck. “Long time too. It’s been about a month. Though he’s damn lucky not to be wearing one of these bastards.” he said again looking at the 50 pound iron ball.

“God damn… Well, that’s how it goes. So how’s this shithole?” Miner asked.

“Fuckin hard man. They do not let up. I’ve been on the chaff squad or the dirt squad the whole fucking time.” Buck said. “They don’t let my stupid ass work the drills.”

Coming fresh off the chain gang, ‘Drills’ had a different meaning in Miner’s and my mind, but that would soon change. We were back in the quarry where I started, and where we both belonged.

“Shit man, you’ve never worked a quarry have you?” Buck said as he looked at Miner. “Chain gang’s close enough to it. It’s all hammers man. Shovels if they put you on dirt squad.”

“Shovels? Not bad…” I said.

“You’d think so,” said Buck, “But god damn do they dog you. If your shovel ain’t flying their whip will be. Guaranteed. We don’t got no nice bosses out here man. I’d get you boys some food, but I ain’t had me an evening ration in over a fucking week man. I’m fucking growlin.” He held his stomach. It was still thick, but it was firmer than I remembered it. “God damn I missed you guys. Times have been hard and dull around here. Tonight’s the first time I’ve spoken more than three words to a man in a long time.”

“I don’t believe that shit.” said Miner. “Usually takes 2 joints just to shut you up!”

“Shh…” said Buck. “Don’t talk bout that. That’s a no go round here. They call it “clean living.” No smokes. No dope, no hooch. Just dip, and fucking work.”

“Clean living.” I said. “That why you stink like a fuckin hog?” I said smiling and socking him in the arm.

“Whoo. I wouldn’t talk bout no hogs, you boys smell like the whole fuckin hog farm! Lucky for you it’s showerin’ day tomorrow. Looks like they already gave you a buzz. Your heads the whitest part on you boys!”

He wasn’t kidding. Our arms were tan, and near black with pure fucking grime. The new guys probably didn’t want to talk to me cause I made their eyes water. I felt embarrassed for a split second before I remembered they’d be the same way within a week. I figured I’d let them sleep. I was dog tired too despite not working. That’d change tomorrow too.

“LIGHTS OUT!!” A boss came down the row between the bunks and killed all the lights one by one. Miner and Buck lay in the bottom bunk, and made out. Their lips smacked, and they moaned quietly. I heard them muffle something like “att”. Then they went back to it.

I just rolled over, slammed my head down on my hard, thin pillow, and shut my eyes. Craig was still on the chain. I thought about it for a minute, and realized that he’d be lead boy too. I thought about him belting out the drills and the grunts for the rest of the gang to follow, and my cock got hard as a rock. I wanted to be there behind him, chained up and hearing his southern drone shouting at the top of his lungs “GO ON DRILL!” while I gave a “HUH!” in response. I wanted to be out there with him going through hell, but going together. Then I realized how stupid that was. There was no guarantee I’d get sent to the same gang. No guarantee he’d find his way out here. God damn I missed him. I shut my eyes, and put my hand down my pants, and stroked my cock. I fell asleep moaning Craig’s name into my pillow.

Chapter 50

4:20 AM “RISE AND SHINE FAGGOTS!! GET ON UP!!!” a boss shouted after clanging the hell out of a metal triangle. Like clockwork, I swung my feet over the edge of the bunk, but I forgot about the ball. It fell to the floor with a huge thud, inches away from the new meat’s foot in the bunk next to me.

“Sorry dude.” I said in a raspy tired voice. I looked like the worst vision of hell the guy had ever seen. I was covered in black filth, and I stunk like hell. He was probably used to hot showers, hot coffee, and hot women. Out here he’d just get hot sun, hot tempers, and hot whip marks. He just stared at me and silently shuddered as he fumbled for his work boots. He was probably wondering if he’d end up like me. I almost didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would, but he‘d have to learn sooner or later.

I threw my feet into my boots and pulled the laces around the back of the boot, tying them in the front the way Craig had shown me once early in my sentence. There was just enough slack in the shackle to slide it over the boot, so I wouldn’t have to worry about it digging right into my skin, but it felt tight.

The new guy kind of struggled with his boots, and eventually just tied them the way you would a normal pair of shoes. There was a lot of extra lace, and a lot of movement.

“Buddy, those’ll never stay on if you tie em like that. Here, gimmie your foot let me show you.” I said.

“I..I’m alright.” he said, getting up and walking out in front of the bunks, as if he could somehow escape this life by getting away from me.

“Suit yourself man. Name’s Matt.” I said still staring at him.

“Josh.” he said.

“You ever done any hard labor kid?” I asked. Now that I got a good look at him, he looked to be a bit older than me, at least in terms of his body. He was maybe in his mid to late thirties. I really hoped that fact wouldn’t give him any kind of ego. I guess I could have looked old enough to be his elder. Not that I needed to look old enough. I was way older, and way wiser about the way shit worked in the labor camps. I think he knew that, but he was still terrified of me, and of his new life.

“Uh, well, not a lot.” he said sheepishly as he stared at my firm, filthy muscles. The most work this guy probably ever did was throwing the first ceremonial shovelful of dirt at a ground breaking. Probably used a nice golden shovel too. I kind of chuckled at that thought.

“Well, you will today boy, stick close to me and I’ll show you the ropes.” I was trying my best to be friendly to this guy, but I must have looked like I had come fresh from the pit of hell, which in a way I had.

“No offense, but I can barely…” he was going to say that he could barely breathe around me, but he stopped short.

“Barely what?” I said. “Breathe? Yeah, I guess I smell pretty bad. I’m sorry. I ain’t had anything like a shower since we got some rain a few months ago. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it kid.”

“God damn what the hell am I going to do? I gotta get away from this shit somehow.” He muttered to himself thinking I couldn‘t hear.

“God damn man, the dude’s been in here for years! Show a little respect. He can’t help it.” I was surprised to hear the other, younger new guy say as he jumped down from the bunk on top of me.

Josh just paced back and forth like a moron. Then he broke loose and did something dumb. He walked up to a guard.

“Excuse me… where…”

“What the fuck are you doin convict?! If you’re done, get at that chow! MOVE IT!” He pointed at the mess hall with his club.

“But where’s the bathr…” He mumbled but was interrupted.

“YOU FUCKING BLIND OR SOMETHING CONVICT?!” The boss walked over to the nearest shit can and flipped open the lid with his club nearly knocking it over. “Right there boy!”

Josh then saw the rest of us pissing right into the cans and it dawned on him. He didn’t have time to be shocked at the lack of plumbing. He whipped his dick out and pissed gallons, trying to hold his breath with disgust as he did so. When he had zipped his fly back up, the boss whacked him in the ass and shouted “GET AT THAT CHOW CONVICT!” If the guy wasn’t willing to listen to or follow the advice of a convict, he’d have to learn from the bosses.

The rest of us didn’t need as much coaxing to get to the mess hall. I was starving. I didn’t realize it, but I hadn’t eaten yesterday at all. I lugged my ball, and the other new guy walked beside me.

“Hey man, you need help with that?” He said eagerly.

“Thanks kid, but I’m not sure you could even lift the damn thing.” I said “It’s mine to haul boy. Don’t you worry about me.”

“Name’s Tom.” he said.

“Matt.” I said. “You ever done any hard work kid?”

“I used to work my uncle’s farm.” He said. I could see there was a bit of tone and tan to his arms, but nothing that would prepare him for 20 hours with a 20 pound sledge.

“That’s good.” I said. “You’ll do alright kid. Us old fuckers will pull a lot of the weight for you. You actually got a chance at getting out of this shit.”

“What, you don’t?” he asked a little confused.

“Nope.” I answered. “Like I said, don’t worry about me kid. All I want out of you is to see you walking out those doors and away from this shit forever.” I was a little put off at how eager this kid seemed but I didn’t mind. He seemed like a good kid. He was probably trying to distract himself by talking so much.

We sat down to eat our chow, and as usual the new guys could barely stomach it. Josh ate it slowly, but I was surprised when he actually finished it. A few of the other cons had told him that’s all he’d be getting till midday and he must have figured out that us old cons knew what we were talking about. Either that or he’d just given up any ideas he had about resistance.

All the cons filed out of the mess hall, and slumped towards the quarry. We marched past the boxes. They were behind a fence, so we couldn’t tap the tops of them to let them know we gave a crap. Our old boss Mark was sweating his ass off in one of them, staring out at us. I couldn’t tell if he could pick me and Miner out of the crowd.

A trusty handed me a sledgehammer, and I held it in the same hand as the ball and chain. I could feel it start to slip, and I thought I might drop it, but I was a strong guy. It wasn’t impossible, it was just a real pain in the ass. Before we got to the rocks, my hand got so sore that I had to switch.

“We’re on number 6. Chaff again.” said Buck in a low gruff monotone, indicating that he wasn’t too happy about where we were going. It made my heart sink hearing Buck talk in that low defeated tone. This was the guy who liked to arm wrestle with me, and try to get me in a headlock while we both laughed our asses off. Now he sounded like another dead voiced con, limping to and from the quarry day in and day out. Our arms were probably going to be too tired to stage any wrestling matches.

We walked down the hill to a pile of boulders. Next to them was a water bucket sitting on the ground with a number 6 painted on it. A big thick headed, stocky boss stood by staring right at us tapping the back of his thick neck with his club. Before I even got close to him, he barked orders out at Buck.

“B-68, school them new meat. Rest of you assholes, get to work. No chatter, no slacking, no bullshit.”

“Yeah boss.” we dutifully said, and chose our rocks. Buck took Josh and Tom aside, and started talking to them about the sledge hammer. I kind of chuckled a bit at the thought of the new meat getting instructions from Buck with his lazy eye. As shitty as things had been so far, I was glad to see Buck again.

Tom looked familiar enough with the sledgehammer, though he probably hadn’t ever used one to smash a rock. Josh on the other hand held his hammer limp in his hands and gave buck a kind of sad look of resignation. He must have been someone important before, but here he was taking instruction from a thick necked, muscular chunk of a man with a bit of a limp eye. He looked really defeated, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He’d learn that he wasn’t any better than us, and maybe he’d learn that he wouldn’t even want to be if he could.

Me and miner were on a group of tough brown stones the size of a large garbage bin. I walked up to it, and let my ball slam down and kick up some dust. There was another squad of 10 convicts up the hill above us driving a drill into a large rock the size of a pickup truck. At our feet was what looked like a similar boulder that had once been whole but had been roughly cracked by the drill squad. We started to pound the rock and the plink of stone mingled with the rhythmic clang of the drills.

No one even spoke. I didn’t even have anything to say. I lifted the hammer I brought it down. The program really did work. All I did was work. “Wipin it off boss?” I asked glad to finally be able to take some small consideration for my own comfort.

“Not today boy.” He shot me down.

“Right boss.” It still felt good to be able to ask, and not be clubbed for my trouble. Plus this guy was just the morning boss, not some hard assed, nameless terror. I couldn‘t read his name tag, but I knew he had one. The evening boss might be better too. I lifted the hammer, I brought it down. It didn’t feel good, but it felt right. This is where I belonged. Still, I felt really alone.

“I know you’re doin ok Craig, but god damn hang in there buddy.” I thought to myself as I cracked the rock beneath me, and went on to the next. The ball dragged behind me.