Desolate The Complete Trilogy

6



Howard felt as if he’d just nodded off when the barracks door slammed open and flashlights filled the room with light again.

“Drop your cocks and get your asses out of bed,” a guard shouted. “We got work to do!”

The grumbling inmates slowly rose from their cots and shuffled to the door. Howard followed and lined up in the frigid yard. The sky was slowly turning gray as dawn broke over the camp.

“All accounted for, Chief,” said a guard to the one in charge.

“Okay, let’s move out!”

The inmates marched under the leadership of several armed guards out of the camp. Several minutes later they reached the ridge Carl had spoken of. They stopped outside a large hole carved into the hillside near a crudely constructed shed. One of the guards opened the padlocked door and started handing tools to the inmates as they filed by. Most of them received large picks while every third or fourth inmate got a shovel. Howard received the latter.

They walked into the dimly lit cave, provided by propane lanterns. It was still cold in the tunnel but at least it offered relief from the bitter wind outside. The inmates with the picks started working at the end of the tunnel and Howard soon caught on to the task at hand. There wasn’t much to it. The men with picks hacked away at the dirt and rock and the diggers like Howard moved in and shoveled it into carts. The platinum deposits were separated and placed in different containers. When the carts were full, three men pushed them out of the mine and dumped the contents into the large pile by the entrance. All the while, the sullen guards watched intently with their rifles and shotguns at hand. The guards got bored just standing and watching so they passed the time by yelling at the workers they deemed not pulling their share.

Howard tired quickly and soon every muscle in his body protested. His hands grew raw from the rough wooden handle of the shovel. It didn’t take long before one of the guards took offence from his efforts.

“Damn boy, we came in here today to work. You think you’re on vacation?” He slapped Howard on the back of the head causing him to drop his shovel. The guard became instantly enraged.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, butterfingers? Are you trying to break my shovel?”

Howard picked it back up and attempted to gather the rocks on the tunnel floor. The guard kicked the shovel from his hand and pushed him to the ground.

“I asked you a question, you piece of shit!”

“I wasn’t trying to break it, sir.” Howard slowly started to get to his feet.

“Then what’s your problem? You’re moving slower than frozen monkey spunk.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to this kind of work. I’ll try harder.”

The frown on the guard’s face disappeared “Oh right, you’re one of the news guys aren’t you? I remember you getting off the boat yesterday.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what son, what was your name again?”

“Howard.”

“Howard, right. Tell you what Howard, since you’re new and all we’ll take it easy on you for now.” He placed his hand on Howard’s shoulder. “Hell, most of these boys have been digging in this tunnel for months and have worked up some endurance. Ain’t that right boys?”

The working inmates acknowledged in unison.

“Why don’t you just have seat and take break for a while. The rest of the boys will understand.” He started to walk away but then stopped and turned.

“Tell ya what though, I’ll need somebody to make up for the lost time while you’re resting. One of these boys will have to work twice as fast. That makes sense, don’t it Howard?”

Before Howard could protest the guard continued. “I’ll let you decide who to pick. After all, I’m just a screw and you’re one of the fellas. You have a better idea who the right man for the job would be.”

Most of the inmates stopped working and looked at Howard. The guards grinned and chuckled amongst themselves.

“Oh, I get it,” the guard continued. “You’re worried about stepping on some toes. Why don’t you just whisper the name in my ear?” He leaned in and put his ear next to Howard’s mouth.

“Big Wilber? I’m sure Wilber would be happy to oblige. Wilber! You heard the man, get cracking. Your buddy Howard over here needs you to work double time so he can take a break and get some rest.”

Big Wilber wasn’t one of those ironic nicknames like a fat guy named Slim. He was big as a mule and gave Howard a look that promised there would be hell to pay that night in the barracks.

Howard didn’t have the guts to protest any further so he sat helplessly on the floor of the cave while the rest of the inmates slaved away. The guards rode Big Wilber’s ass relentlessly to get him to work faster.

Eventually, Howard was told to get back to work and the day dragged on. The inmates worked at a steady pace and the guards continued to abuse them verbally and physically.

After a few hours, one of the privileged inmates who worked in the warm comforts of the mess hall delivered lunch. Everyone received two biscuits, a cold sausage link, and a tin cup full of water. The inmates sat on the cold ground and ate in silence for ten glorious minutes.

Howard wolfed down the meager lunch with great enthusiasm. He remembered what Carl had said about inhaling his tray before he sat down. That would be an understatement. The biscuits and sausage only made his hunger worse and he dreamed of what would be served up in the mess that evening.

He couldn’t help wonder the fate of Carl. The guy was obviously a nut, but he had saved him from getting his shoes stolen. Howard hoped he would be back soon to protect him from Big Wilber.

Howard manned his shovel and worked the best he could for the rest of the day. Having satisfied themselves at his expense, the guards left him alone.

Finally, when the guards decided it was time to quit, the weary inmates trudged out of the hole and back to camp. Howard sat alone in the mess hall gulping down the same meal as yesterday as Big Wilber and his cronies eyeballed him. He was too exhausted to care about what Wilber may have in store for him. Logic would say Howard didn’t do a damn thing to make the guard single out Wilber. Would he realize that? Howard didn’t think so. Big Wilber didn’t look like the type to hold logic as a high priority.