by Box Set
“I hope D’Lo’s buddies pound you into the turf,” I yelled back over my shoulder.
“But you love me!” His holler broke with his laugh.
I kept stomping away as a smile crept across my lips.
* * *
I sat up straight in my bunk. A sob caught in my throat, and I pulled my knees to my chin. For a moment I held on, quiet in the dark. Sounds of sleep filled the large room where we were all housed together, but I heard someone else whimpering in the darkness, someone like me, missing a loved one or wanting to go home.
I eased down onto my side, still holding my knees to my chest. My head turned, and I studied the metal grid of the bunk above. I thought about windows on the ceiling. Maybe he was somewhere in the woods, sleeping under the stars. Maybe he was thinking of me and wondering if I were still alive, believing just like I was that we’d find each other and everything would be okay.
I closed my eyes and breathed the musty smell of old mattresses and the sharp tang of pine needles. My mind drifted to what I’d heard behind the dining hall—about our captors calling us humans and talking about ships. It was crazy, and I still didn’t know what to think of it.
I bet they knew I was there the whole time and staged that conversation to trick me. They wanted me to believe they were something… alien. The word made me want to throw up, but if it was a trick, it was smart. Just like that chicken-wire fence.
They wanted to scare me or make me think I was losing my mind. The fair guy had been watching D’Lo and me and smiling in his creepy way. He probably hoped I’d tell everybody what I heard, and we’d all be too scared to do anything. That was the most reasonable explanation. Defeat us from the inside.
Besides, aliens had skinny little bodies and big bald heads with giant black eyes. I’d seen the pictures, and Jackson made me watch that alien autopsy show on TV.
Chewing my lip, I remembered that second time I woke up in the room with the gun. The nurse’s eyes made me shiver in the dark. They were close to alien, but at the same time, nobody else had them. What if that was part of the trick? Plant the idea when I was drunk on anesthesia.
Aliens glowed in the dark and made weird screeching noises. Or they busted out of people’s chests and looked like overgrown insects with machine gun arms. Not only that, the woman Cato said we were working for the common good. That was what the Communists always said. If they had ships and could leave, why hold us at all? What did they need us for?
The only way it made sense was if it were a trick. They thought we were dumb Mississippi rednecks who could be duped into believing alien invasion stories. They expected us to go on the TV shows and talk about how we’d been probed once this was all over.
Well, I’d show these Communist losers. I’d find Jackson and we’d both show them.
Rolling over in my squeaky cot, I tried to go back to sleep, but my brain kept working. We were the grassroots heroes—just like in the movies. We’d identify their one weakness and exploit it. A yawn pulled my jaw hard, and I blinked a few times, picturing us hiding out, amassing an army of resisters. My eyes grew heavy, and I drifted back to sleep dreaming of Jackson taking charge and us saving the world.
* * *
The loud tone jerked me awake. I dropped to the floor with my eyes still closed and stepped into my gray coveralls. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and followed my group into the dining hall wondering if we’d be digging potatoes again today.
As usual, our plates held an egg and a piece of steak. It was like we were all on that strict protein diet Star McLain liked to brag about back when I was a cheerleader. Caveman or Paleo or whatever it was. As cheer captain, all she’d done all football season was bark orders and make passes at Jackson as if I weren’t right there.
It seemed silly now. Stuff like that used to matter.
We finished eating and deposited our trays on the wide metal counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the hall. Team Two was already working, and I needed to talk to Cleve again this afternoon. We needed to get moving.
“Five of you will work the garden today, digging potatoes,” Shubuta said. “Three of you will work the dairy, milking and churning for butter.”
She walked among us tapping our shoulders, giving us our tasks. Yolanda was tapped for the dairy, Flora was back on the potato line. Already a drop of sweat was running down my cheek. It was going to be a hot morning, and I silently hoped I’d get tapped for the shady, breezy barn. When Shubuta got to me, she stopped.
“You are very small.” She surveyed me as she made a note on her clipboard. “Are you strong?”
She hadn’t stopped at anyone else, and I wondered if they were closing in on me. I fixed my eyes on my boots, trying not to shiver. D’Lo said the soldier Ovett liked to taunt them in the fields. He told them leaders would be neutralized, and we debated what that could mean. Shock collar? Solitary confinement? Death?
The woman Shubuta waited, and I stared at the ground, not answering. Playing dumb was the best tactic.
“All rendered thick and useless,” she breathed, shaking her head. Her voice went loud and sharp, as if to command my attention. “You! Are you strong enough to milk?”
I nodded, and she signaled for me to stand with the dairy group. Then she continued down the row.
“Dairy hands will go with Oma. Row workers will stay with me. Special breaks will be given for those demonstrating the best effort.”
I kept my head down as I followed Yolanda and our group into the barn. Flora and I shared a brief smile as she turned the opposite direction and went with her team to the field.
Inside the airy building, nine cows stood beside stools and pails. The sight of those big auburn bodies comforted me in a way I never expected, and I automatically went to the closest one and sat. Rubbing my hands to warm them, I took hold of one of the long, finger-like teats.
Most all dairy farms used mechanical milkers these days, but Dr. Green had showed me how to milk by hand. He was a kind man, and he hated the big dairies with their hormones and mass-production. He’d told me I’d learn to appreciate the kinship of following these animals through their life cycle on the farm.
We helped impregnate them, saw them through gestation, and then delivered their calves. Milking was about the easiest part of the process, he said, and he was right. I liked doing it, my head pressed into the large animal’s side. I developed a sort-of maternal affection for them, like I really was their family doctor.
I hadn’t realized Cato was standing there with the other female soldier Oma. The soldier was all prepared to demonstrate milking, but it was too late for me. A stream of milk hissed against my bucket before I had time to remember I was supposed to act dumb.
“You know about cows?” Cato stepped forward, and despite her calm, I could tell she was eager for my answer.
I stood quickly, almost knocking my stool over as I wiped my hands on my coveralls and stared at the ground. The cow groaned, and a pang of guilt tinged the fear pulsing in my chest. The woman spoke again.
“Do not be afraid. Special skills will be rewarded. Tell me. Do you know about cows?”
My eyes were fixed on my shoes, and I debated how to answer. I knew everything about cows. Working with Dr. Green for nine months had taught me about cows, horses, dogs, pigs. He’d even shown me a few tricks for chickens, although he said they were dumb birds only fit for giving eggs two years and then eating.
The cow emitted another frustrated groan, and my eyes tensed as I studied my shoes. Her milk had let down, and I needed to finish the job. I knew she was hurting.
Cato exhaled loudly and moved back to the front of the room where her helper Oma proceeded to teach us to milk a cow. Soon I was back on my stool relieving my beast. The three of us would milk the cows and then churn for butter.
As I sat with my head pressed against the warm, smelly flank massaging rubbery teats, I remembered being back with Jackson in what would one day be our barn. I could still see his lean body propped aga
inst a dismantled tractor, twirling a hay stalk in his mouth.
* * *
“Daddy says he’ll start transitioning the farm to me when I’m twenty,” he said. “What do you think about that?”
I squinted up at him from where I sat against the shed wall. “Sounds great!”
“It’s damn hot working a farm. You sure you wanna do that forever?”
He knew I hated the summer heat, but it was the first time I could remember Jackson complaining about it or questioning our plan because of it.
“There’s not much else I know how to do.”
I’d given up on my wild idea of becoming a doctor. Besides, my daddy’d been a farmer before he’d been a drunk. My brother probably would’ve done the same thing if he hadn’t gone crazy and started talking in tongues and preaching Jesus at everybody.
Anyway, we were too poor for me to go to college, and I wasn’t smart enough for a scholarship. Getting to be a doctor would take years, and I’d have to move away and leave Jackson to go to school. That kind of scared me.
“I could work at the glass factory,” I said. “Maybe answer phones or be a receptionist in an office.”
“They gonna close that glass factory in a few years.” He pushed off the tractor and walked over to sit beside me. “Haven’t you heard everybody talking?”
I shook my head. A pang of sadness hit me thinking of who all’d be out of work. Flora’s mom, Mrs. Magee, for starters.
“That’d never happen to us on a farm,” I said. “We’d be our own boss, raise all our own food, have our own cows and stuff.”
I watched him gaze out at the acres of land he’d have to plow year after year. It had never struck me that Jackson might want to do something different. He’d never mentioned it.
I kept talking, trying to get him excited about our plan again. The one we’d made at the beginning of last summer. We’d graduate high school, get married, and make this place our home.
“We could try some of those new techniques,” I said. “Like those green farmers. Then we’d know what was in everything we ate. We’d know where it came from, when it was harvested, how it was grown…”
He was unimpressed. “I guess there’s people who care about that stuff. But we’d go broke trying to find them. That kind of farming takes money, and there’s always somebody bigger out there taking shortcuts.”
I slid my hand over his. “It was just an idea.”
He pulled away. “You just wanna be dirt poor and working hard all your life, don’t you, Prentiss Puckett?”
“I don’t mind if I’m working hard with you.” I didn’t understand why he was so angry all of a sudden or what had changed since last summer. “If your daddy gives us the farm, we can make it one of those big farms and hire workers—”
“I’ll still be slaving myself to death,” he growled, getting up and dusting off the back of his jeans.
“No you won’t.” I caught his arm and tried to ease the tension. “We’ll have us a little boy cute as you who’ll help and eventually take it over from us.”
He breathed a smile and pulled me close against his chest. For a moment, he only held me, breathing hard. Then he ducked down and grabbed my mouth in a rough kiss. I steadied myself, placing a hand on his shoulder, opening to him. His tongue curled against mine, and I was sure we were back on track.
Two weeks later he announced he was going out for the football team.
* * *
My eyes were damp when I looked down and saw my bucket was full. The memory left me miserable, but I stood and carried the heavy pail of warm, foamy milk across the barn to where Yolanda waited to churn it.
I shoved my arm across my face to wipe any tears away with my sweat. Crying wasn’t doing me any good. I had to get with Cleve, get to watching and planning. We’d bust out, and I’d find Jackson. Or if I had trouble doing that, we’d make a Plan B, and we’d come back for everybody.
I poured the contents of my bucket into the churn looked around, forcing my mind to focus on strategy. Nine cows gave way too much milk for the number of people living in our prison-farm. I also didn’t see any bulls, so where was all the steak coming from? Another barn wasn’t in sight, and there weren’t any cows anywhere else here. There had to be another prison-farm nearby. Maybe Jackson was there!
My breath hitched at the idea. Of course! Where else were they keeping the rest of Dabb Creek’s residents?
The lunch tone sounded the end of our workday, and I had to keep myself from skipping across the yard to the dining hall. I couldn’t wait to tell Cleve what I’d realized. Joining forces with another camp changed everything.
As we filtered in, I looked out across the field, another camp would be close enough to share food and supplies, and if I got out and went there, maybe I could blend in with those prisoners and find Jackson. Then the two of us could escape together and come back for our friends.
Cleve wasn’t with Team Two, but I saw D’Lo at the end of the line. I tried to catch his eye, but he turned away as if he didn’t know me—or he didn’t want to. An ice-cold chill shivered down my back. Something had happened. Why hadn’t Cleve reappeared?
I walked slower as the other prisoners shuffled past until I was standing behind Dee. We’d be sitting together for the meal now. It was more steak, but this time our cuts had grill-marks on them. We also had a few wedges of cheese, and assorted fruit slices. I kept my head down as he started to eat.
Neither of us spoke, and he acted like he hadn’t even seen me pull back to be beside him or sit right next to him. I watched his hand slide forward and take his glass. I followed with my eyes as he drank it, but he wouldn’t look at anything or make eye contact with anybody. Something different was happening with Team Two when they were away, and it was something bad.
A tremor moved through my stomach. “Dee?” I whispered, looking at my plate.
No response.
I took my hand and moved it under the table to his huge, rock-hard thigh. I couldn’t make a dent in that muscle, but I gave it a squeeze anyway. He slowly turned his head my way and widened his eyes like I should leave him alone.
“What happened?” I insisted.
“Miss?” A genderless voice came from behind me, and I snatched my hand back.
“Y-yes?”
“You haven’t touched your meal. Was it not prepared to your liking?”
I stared at my plate. “I… I ate a big breakfast,” I said, as if they didn’t know.
“At least three bites of everything,” the voice said.
I resisted saying I hadn’t had a mamma since I was nine. I wasn’t that brave. Instead I nodded and picked up my fork. I shifted the fruit around and bit the end off a slice of apple.
“Don’t forget your protein,” the guard said. “You worked very hard today. We don’t want anyone becoming ill.”
I dutifully stabbed a piece of the beef I’d cut but not eaten. As I put the bite in my mouth, I glanced up to the next table. Flora was facing me, and her eyes had dark purple marks under them. Her face was pale, and she seemed to be staring straight through the floor between us. She was getting worse. Something had to happen soon.
If Dee was too scared to help, Cleve and I would do it alone. I had to get out of here if only to get help for my friend.
The third tone sounded. Lunch was over.
* * *
Out in the yard, D’Lo took his usual spot in the shade. I watched him sit down and rest his chin on his chest. The straw hat they’d assigned each of us was pulled down over his face.
Cleve still hadn’t come back, and I glanced at our guards. As usual they didn’t seem too worried about us. Keeping my sensors up for any change in their behavior, I casually went to my large friend and sat next to him.
“What’s going on?” I whispered. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
His gaze roamed the perimeter then returned to his lap. Without a word, he shook his head and put his chin on his chest again. I wasn’t having any of it. I
grabbed the sleeve of his coveralls and jerked the fabric hard. “Tell me what happened!”
His head wagged back and forth then quietly, through motionless lips he answered. “Not safe. Don’t know what they can hear.” The whites showed around his pitch-black irises as he pointed to the sky. “They’re not from here.”
I shook my head firmly. “NO! You cannot fall for that. They’re screwing with our heads, Dee.”
His eyes held mine, and I could tell he believed the hoax. I stubbornly stared back and pressed my lips tight together. I was not accepting their lies, but it was clear he was. He’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker just like in that old movie where they brainwashed the guy into assassinating the President.
Stress twisted a sharp pain between my shoulder blades. The pressure was becoming too much as I pushed myself off the ground. It was all I could do not to take off running and screaming, kicking and yelling for this to end, for them to let me go. I’d show them what I thought of their psychological warfare.
I walked as far as the chicken-wire fence and stopped. I took a deep breath and let my shoulders drop. Staring into the dense forest, I tried my own brand of mental messaging, begging for Jackson to feel my presence or to hear me calling him through the sheer force of my will.
The woods grew even darker as the trees got closer together. Green leaves mixed with black shadows, dark-brown sticks with mud. I stared until my eyes hurt. Then I took another deep breath and headed up the hill to try and find Cleve.
I’d just reached the grove in the center, when Cato burst from her cabin at the bottom of the hill. I jumped, then froze in place and watched as she walked quickly, almost running toward the dining hall.
Her movements were a mix of excitement and desperation. She didn’t see me, but by the look on her face, I doubted she would’ve have seen anyone.
A shuffling noise to my right caught my attention, and a guy who appeared about my age stepped from around the corner, just beyond the hall. He was tall and wore a drab tee that revealed muscular arms. Khaki cargos hung low on his slim hips, and dark bangs were swept long over his left eye and cheek. His lips were tight, and he seemed angry.
