Locked Together (In Chains) (3 page)

I wake to the piercing sound of the alarm and line up on the yellow line with the others. The door opens and the female guard that took us to breakfast yesterday is standing outside the door. The slaves troop out; I stop when I reach her. “Permission to speak please ma’am.”

“Make it quick,” she snaps.

I swallow. “I’d like to see whoever is in charge please ma’am.”

She scowls at me. “No one’s interested in what you’d like.”

“I’ve read those,” I point to the list of rules on the wall, “we’re not getting the things we should be. I just want to speak to someone about it.”

She glares at me. “Well now you have. Move.”

She shoves in the back but I stand my ground. My palms are sweating and my heart is thumping but I’m also angry, how dare she dismiss me like that. “These people are being taken advantage of because they can’t read. I’ll contact my brother and he’ll get the media involved.” I line up with the slaves, I don’t want them to miss breakfast because of me but I haven’t finished saying my piece. “If this ends up going to the media, I’ll make sure whoever runs this place knows it was your fault. You’ll end up losing your job.”

She presses her thumb against the pad, then she turns and scowls at me. As I walk past her, I can feel her glare burning a hole in the back of my head.

CHAPTER FOUR

Savannah

The rest of the week drags by, every day the same old thing. I get a few precious moments with Kayden at dinner, other than that, I never see him. I wonder if I’m going to lose the ability to think because there’s nothing here to occupy my mind.

I’m working in the field, picking tomatoes when I sense someone behind me. I look up, shielding my eyes from the sun, I wish I had my sunglasses. Standing there is a tall, thin male guard that I’ve never seen before. He speaks with a high pitched voice and tells me the manager wants to see me. I’ll be glad to get out of the sun; I can feel my arms and face are sunburned.

I follow him to the reception, where I was booked in. My palms are damp. I don’t know what the manager is like and I’m trying to think of what to say. We stop at a wooden door and the guard knocks on it, I hear a male voice telling us to enter.

The first thing I notice is the large, expensive looking wooden desk, and sitting behind it is a grey haired man wearing silver rimmed glasses. He stares at me with his cold, grey eyes. “I’ve got slave F51199GH to see you sir,” the guard says as he pushes me towards the desk. The manager is a small built man but he has an imposing manner. His eyes haven’t left mine and he’s slowly tapping his pen against the desk. I clasp my hands in front of me and twiddle my fingers. There are framed certificates and photos hung on the cream coloured walls. One is a casual family portrait of him, a woman and two children; it looks like it was taken recently. I glance behind me; the guard is standing inside the room, beside the door, his hands behind his back. There’s an empty seat in front of the desk but I haven’t been told I can sit, so I remain standing. I stare at his desk, studying the tiny scratches in the woodwork.

I stiffen as he clears his throat. “I understand you have a complaint.” He leans back in his leather chair and steeples his fingers together.

My mouth has gone dry, I swallow. “Yes sir.” I breathe and try to relax my muscles. He’s just a man, just a man, I tell myself as I force my eyes to meet his. “Some safety rules are being broken…and other rules.” I lower my gaze back to his desk.

“Well, if what you say is true, this is a very serious matter.” He leans forward and rests his forearms on his desk. “Please, take a seat and tell me about it.” He gestures to the empty seat in front of his desk. I sit, take a deep breath and tell him about the fire drills, the food and the lack of showers. He listens without interrupting. When I’ve finished talking he leans back in his chair. “What is your name?” he asks.

“Err…Savannah, sir.”

“Well, Savannah,” he smiles at me, “these are very serious accusations, and I can promise you they will receive my full attention.”

This is better than I could have hoped for; I was expecting him to dismiss all my concerns. I doubt he’ll act on all of them, but if we at least get fire drills it will be some small victory. I don’t want to push my luck, but there is one other thing I need to ask him. “Sir, is it possible for me to see my brother, a visit maybe? Or perhaps I could write to him, or call him.”

He smiles at me again and clears his throat before speaking. “The Compound is not designed for visits; the slaves do not have family or friends in the outside world. I appreciate your case is exceptional, I will see what I can do.” He opens his desk drawer and rummages around inside. He hands me a sheet of paper, an envelope and a pen. “You are welcome to write to your brother and I will see to it that it gets mailed.”

He glances at the guard, who then walks up to me, grasps my arm and escorts me from the room. The guard leads me to a seat in reception. “Sit here and write the letter to your brother,” he says. He begins a conversation with the guard who is working at the reception desk. I have so much I want to write, but only one sheet of paper, so I’d better keep it brief.

Dear Simon,

How are you and Christine? I miss you both. Have you set a date for your wedding yet?

Will you please contact Jenny at the cafe? She probably thinks I quit my job because I didn’t enjoy it. Will you please explain everything to her and let her know that I would love to work for her again when I get out of here, if she still wants me. Please let her know about Kayden too, she may be wondering why he hasn’t shown up, she may even think we’ve run away together. I now wish we had.

In a way I made a mistake admitting to the crime and coming here but if I hadn’t, Kayden would be dead. I know you didn’t agree with our relationship but I hope you don’t blame him for what happened, it was all my decision and Kayden was horrified when he found out I was here. He loves me, Simon and he’s worried about me I know. I’m sure you are too. Physically I’m okay, they haven’t hurt me, my back aches from bending over in the field and my hands are sore because they don’t provide any gardening gloves, but other than that I’m fine.

I think letters will be the only way I can contact you and I don’t know how often they will let me write. The manager will mail this letter for me, he may be willing to mail one a week but I can’t be sure of that. If you don’t hear from me for a while, try not to worry.

I want to tell him how crazy it is here but I stop myself, the manager could steam open my letter and read it. I don’t think he’d take kindly to me pointing out the faults in the system to my brother. I glance around; the guard is still deep in conversation. I frown when I see that the list of rules are also posted on the wall here in reception. I grip the pen. Why do they even bother posting these rules everywhere, when all they do is ignore them? I close my eyes, and breathe. When I feel calmer, I open my eyes and continue writing.

I’ve got so much to tell you. Perhaps you could contact someone here and see if they will let you visit? I love you. Take care of yourself.

I lick the envelope to seal it. Ugh, I hate the taste of envelope adhesive. I hand the guard my letter.

Amy and I make dinner, watery potato soup and stale bread. We feed the slaves and I wait impatiently for Kayden to come through the door. As soon as I see him, I run at him and throw my arms around his waist. He feels bony, he’s lost weight. His eyes sparkle as he looks down at me. I rest my head against his chest as he runs his fingers through my hair. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers in my ear.

“I hate being apart from you,” I tell him, “but you need to eat and I don’t want you to run out of time again.”

We hold hands as we eat our soup. I push my bread towards him; he frowns and pushes it back towards me. “You eat it baby,” he rubs his nose against mine, “I don’t want you to get hungry.”

I give him my sternest look. “Listen up slave; I’m a human, so you have to do what I say.” Kayden is shaking with laughter. I hold the bread to his lips. “Eat.”

The alarm sounds for the level threes to line up at the door. Kayden looks back at me as he’s led out and I hold his gaze until the door slams shut. I blink back my tears and help Amy wash up.

We’re locked in the dorm without a shower once again. Lack of decent food is making me tired and I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the lumpy pillow.

I’m woken by a piercing noise; I sit up and rub my eyes. Is it the morning alarm already? I don’t feel like I’ve had a full night’s sleep. I glance around, everyone looks bleary eyed and half asleep as they shuffle along to stand by the yellow line. The door opens. “This is a fire drill,” a male guard shouts. He marches us all outside to the courtyard. It’s still dark, the only illumination coming from the perimeter lights. The guard has us all stand in a line. He’s holding some sort of gadget which he uses to scan the bar-codes on our wrist cuffs. “Wait here till you’re told to go back inside,” he says. I watch as he lights up a cigarette, leans against the dormitory wall and starts a conversation with a female guard. At this time of year the temperature drops at night and all I have on are jeans and a t-shirt, I wrap my arms around myself to try and stop shivering, I have goose bumps already. I stifle a yawn. The guard walks the length of the line, glaring at us. “Get used to this, someone complained that we weren’t having fire drills.” He stops and stands directly in front of me. He takes a drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke in my face. How sad is it that I want to inhale? I don’t long for a smoke all day like I did when I first got here but the cravings haven’t completely left me yet.

It feels like an hour has passed and finally they lead us back to the dorm. I’m cold and tired. A few of the slaves are giving me dirty looks. I crawl onto my bunk and wrap myself in my blanket to try to get warm again. I don’t blame them being upset at me but surely the guards didn’t need to have the drill in the middle of the night. They’re beyond childish if they did this to get back at me for making the complaint. I close my eyes and try to get some sleep.
I’m in some kind of steel refinery, everywhere I look are shiny pieces of metal. Two women and a man walk past me carrying a metal table. They put it down in the centre of the room and suddenly a crowd of people form a circle around them. Someone in the crowd hands them some short steel poles. The man starts singing, he has a gravelly voice and he’s singing a heavy metal song. They start hitting the table with the poles, the loud clanging sound forms a rhythm. It sounds good; I’m smiling and tapping my foot. The guy is swinging his head, his long black hair falls onto his face. He suddenly stares right at me. I avert my eyes, I know I’m blushing, I hate it when I’m at concerts at the singer looks at me. “Get up,” he screams. “Get up, now.” He begins banging the pole on the table. “Get up.”
I open my eyes but I can still hear the clanging of the poles and then a female guard stops in front of my bunk and smacks the metal poles of the bunk with her baton. “Get up; it’s time for a shower.”

A shower? What time is it? I stagger out of bed and line up with the others on the yellow line. Everyone seems to be yawning. It feels as if I only fell asleep a few moments ago. Two guards lead us to the showers and let ten of us in at a time. There are rusty looking shower heads protruding from the walls along the length of the room and drainage holes in the floor beneath them. There are no shower curtains. “Strip,” orders the male guard. “Put your clothes in a pile over here.” He points to a corner of the room. Both guards are standing there in the doorway. You’ve got to be kidding me; they expect me to undress in here in front of everyone, in front of men I don’t even know. Everyone but me is undressing, and I’m saddened by how thin they look. Most of them are shivering, it’s so cold in here I can see my breath.

The female guard strides over to me, taking her baton out of her belt loop as she approaches. She taps the baton on the palm of her hand. “Disobey me and you will be punished. Strip. Now.” The look in her eyes tells me she’s serious so I swallow down my embarrassment and undress, trying to cover my private parts with my hands. We’re ordered to stand under the shower heads and face the wall. Dirty, brown water rains down on me. I gasp, it’s freezing. I step out of the way of the flow, and jump as I feel a burning pain across the back of my legs. “Get back under the shower,” the guard yells. I move back under the freezing water and look down at the red stripe forming on my legs. I let my tears flow and mingle with the shower water. The water stops abruptly. “Showers are over. Pick up your clothes and line up by the door. Move it.” I grab my clothes and line up with the other shivering slaves, no one has handed out towels, this is ridiculous. I’m pulling my t-shirt over my head when the guard yells at me, “Take that off. I didn’t give you permission to get dressed; you can do that in the dorm.” Holding my clothes in my hand I trudge back to the dorm, I can’t stop shivering. The minute the guard leaves I put my t-shirt on and struggle to pull my jeans up my damp legs.

“This is all your fault,” shouts out one of the male slaves. “You’re the one who moaned about the fire drills. I’m cold and I haven’t had any sleep thanks to you.” Several other slaves murmur their agreement.

I head over to my bunk. As I pass by Amy’s bed she mutters, “You’re trouble.” I curl up into a ball on my side and pull the blanket over my head; I’ve never felt so alone.