The Not so Secret Agent Ch. 12

"I think we should get married... I mean, I'm not sure if we can, given our unusual situation but what do you say? Want to be Mrs. Criminal number 88588?"

"Wow... I... Hmm... After stammering about for a few seconds Samantha flashed a wicked smile. "Let's do it, let's get married!" With a girlish scream Samantha jumped enthusiastically throwing her arms around Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur's eyes went wide in pain. "Shit, that hurts!"

Samantha giggled but let go. "Oh, sorry."

Arthur groaned and looked up at the ceiling. "What am I getting myself into?"

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A hundred criminals lined up in orderly ranks, standing at attention inside the old train station. The guards had their switches and batons out, making a big show of the inspection in front of a crowd of travelers. The train was on time; in Danubia the train is always on time. Free people took their seats and then the criminals were allowed to board, though the criminals weren't permitted the luxury of a seat or travel in a passenger car.

Arthur gripped a wall panel with his left hand. The train car swayed and bumped so much that it was hard to stand otherwise and Arthur did want to stand; the last occupants were either sheep or goats. It was the tenth of May and the warm air whipping all around the open topped livestock car smelled of spring... and goats.

Though it was not easy to judge time Arthur thought they traveled almost two hours eastward from Rika Chorna before the train came to a stop near an intersection. Two Public Works buses took the criminals southward for another hour until the road became too muddy for the bus to travel. The guards had the criminals unload and kneel in groups of ten so that their collars could be fastened together on chains. The final ten km would be traveled on foot.

Arthur and the others marched down the farm road. They were in the sparsely populated plains near the border of Danubia's two eastern-most provinces; cultivated fields of wheat, oats, and barley went on for kilometers to either side.

An hour later the road crested a small hill and Arthur got his first look at the Ministry of Public Works' camp. A cramped but orderly grid of canvass tents and trailers covered what had once been a pasture; a kilometer across. A thirty-meter antenna tower set in the middle; on the northern border lines of criminals unloaded several flatbed trucks. Bulldozers, excavators and other heavy equipment set in a clearing on the camp's east side. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people moved about.

A guard, weary and irritable, stepped out of the first tent beside the road. He sighed loud enough for everyone to hear it and then raised a hand to stop the work crew. Arthur thought that he might unlock the chain, but the guard was only interested in getting them classified and assigned before the next group arrived. Without saying a thing, he walked by copying numbers onto his clipboard. When all ten names were recorded, he turned to rummage through a box of supplies.

The guard peeled off a round green sticker with a white #22 on it and stuck it right on the chest of the young man who was first in line. With the criminal work crew cataloged and labeled his job was done; he pointed down a well-trampled road through the center of camp, said: "camp green," and then made a gesture as if shooing off flies.

There were five camps spread out along the work site, each held hundreds of male criminals, a separate smaller camp held the women. Arthur and the other nine were herded toward an encampment of about fifty army tents each with a green sign and number on it.

A female guard stopped them at the camp entrance. "Down on your knees."

Arthur and the others got down on trampled grass.

"I expect to you dishonored animals to answer 'Yes Officer' when you are given an order. Is that clear?"

"Yes Officer." The group repeated with not much enthusiasm.

Satisfied with her dominance over the lowly criminals, the woman set her shotgun on a bench and began unlocking the chain from the collars. Next there was the assignment of living quarters. Arthur had a canvas cot inside a military style canvas tent with nine other criminals; on top of his cot was a box containing a toothbrush, soap, and a few other items as well as a list of rules and regulations. This was home for some undetermined amount of time.

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Work began the next morning. Strangely enough, in this project that was marketed as a way to bring the Eastern Valley into the twenty-first century, most of the labor seemed more first century. Canals were roughed out with an old excavator that smoked and groaned with every scoop, then after the machine moved on criminal labor crews gave the canal its final slope. Piles of soil and rock were moved by hand drawn sledges, wheel barrels, and shovels; then compacted using hand drawn rollers. Private contractors installed metal irrigation gates at the ends of each segment.

This was hard labor; long exhausting days, in the glare of the late spring sun, under the watch of guards who had no sympathy for the 'animals' they supervised. Arthur and the others got used to it though, and tried to make their time off after work as pleasant as possible. There were games played and sports for those who had the energy. A few enterprising Danubians even made rudimentary musical instruments; by the second week there were a few peculiar bands performing after supper.

Arthur socialized some, but he wasn't exactly friends with any of the other criminals. He knew how serious and easily offended Danubians tended to be; so he was cautious, just not cautious enough.

One afternoon during his second week Arthur and a particularly large Danubian criminal were ordered to assist the contractors with the placement of a section of gate. During a lengthy delay while concrete was poured, Arthur thought he would try to make the Danubian criminal laugh.

Arthur told a joke he had translated from English and got no response. Since the joke had to do with an American Major League Baseball team, a sport that Danubians didn't even play, Arthur tried to explain in terms he might understand: "Alright... it's like if your mother walked in on your sister with... the... Rika Chorna men's soccer team... and there's a jar of money in the floor and..."

The Danubian found this explanation even less satisfying. He grabbed Arthur's right arm in one hand and drew back the other for a punch. Arthur owed the slimy red clay for the miss. Arthur jerked away from the Danubian's grip and his feet went out from under him.

The big man didn't let go. Tumbling backwards and upside-down on the slope, by chance Arthur's feet got underneath the Danubian's mid-section. Arthur kicked, sending him flipping end-over-end and landing in knee-deep muddy water.

Arthur slid to a stop just short of the waterline and then scrambled back up the incline before his big angry friend extracted himself from the mud. A guard had noticed the disturbance.

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Back at the camp Arthur and his large friend were placed into a chain link enclosure just outside the guard's quarters. It was simply a six-meter square pen set on dying trampled grass with a gate on the north end. Arthur hoped the Danubian was no longer in the mood to fight- big and tall beats average and well... average any day. He knew he just got lucky the first time, now that he was locked in a cage with his adversary it was time to use diplomacy.

"You see," Arthur explained. "This is all a misunderstanding." The large man's fists were clenched, not a good sign.

"I don't want you to take what I said the wrong way." No response.

"I'm sure that you actually come from a very respectable family... and I didn't mean to imply otherwise." The big man looked even angrier, and took a step forward.

"And I'm certain that your mother is a saint... or uh... whatever..." Arthur dashed to the side avoiding the big man's grip.

"Fight me like a man!" The Danubian growled."

"Uh... I'd rather not." Arthur stepped to the side avoiding him again.

"Really if you think about it... er... you and me..." Arthur faked going left and scrambled right. "We aren't all that different."

"Uh... us criminals got to stick together right?" Arthur's next footstep skidded on wet grass and the Danubian landed a hard punch to his ribs. Arthur tumbled off balance from the blow, kicking as the big man lurched over him throwing more punches.

A shotgun blast at close range got both their attentions. The criminal who was about to knock Arthur's head off swore under his breath and backed away. The sounds of multiple pump-action shotguns loading accompanied the shouts of approaching guards.

The first guard through the gate kicked Arthur to the ground and twisted his arms back to apply handcuffs (for the protection of the five guards and the other criminal). When both criminals were subdued a female officer stepped into the cage. She was about thirty, a little shorter than Arthur, and judging from her immaculately pressed gray uniform, unaccustomed to camp life.

"You." She looked disgusted at Arthur, on his knees in front of her, covered in red clay and clumps of grass. "What is your name?"

"Officer, my name is Criminal # 88588."

"That accent... Where are you from Criminal # 88588?"

"The United States."

"Amerikanitsk... Amerikanitsk?" She curiously repeated the term for a male American. "You're the spy, aren't you?"

Fame was clearly over-rated. "Yes officer, I was convicted of espionage two years ago."

"And you are still causing trouble, are you not?"

Arthur borrowed a phrase that American politicians use when they get in trouble, to sound apologetic without admitting anything. "I regret that mistakes were made officer."

"I can tell you that you will definitely regret causing a disturbance at this camp. You have not only violated the regulations of the Ministry of Public Works but also the terms of..."

The listing of rules that they had broken went on and on. Arthur considered his options while the officer veered off into lecture mode, using phrases that must have been pulled directly out of some police manual. By the time the series of warnings, quoted regulations, and platitudes was complete Arthur had decided how to respond. The guards were intimidating but the look that the 250lb gorilla was giving him seemed worse.

"Officer, the disturbance was entirely my fault; my careless words provoked this man into fighting me." Arthur glanced over at his big angry friend, hoping that did the trick.

"Who is at fault is not for a dishonored criminal to decide. You're aware of the camp rules are you not?"

"Yes officer."

"And you." She spoke to the big criminal to Arthur's right.

"Yes officer." He rumbled.

"Good, then you have no excuses." She gave an order to a subordinate in her most authoritative voice and then turned to leave looking very pleased with herself.

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The wild boar was hit- it bucked straight up in the air and made a horrible squeal. Its last few strides took it into the swampy border of a thick hedge. The boar ceased moving after a minute. Two guards congratulated the shooter and commented on the fine meal it would make.

The shooter was eager to see his prize up close. "You two dishonored criminals; go get that pig."

Arthur started to give a reasonable explanation of why that would not be such a good idea but he could see that the guard was completely unsympathetic. His big friend was already wading toward the boar's body; its hindquarters and one foot poked out of the tangle of grass and brambles. It looked bigger up close. Arthur looked to his partner, wondering if he had done this before.

Arthur grabbed hold of the boar's left hind foot with both hands. It was covered in black bristles, callused and hard, big around as a softball, and twitching. The plan was that they would grab the boar by the hind legs and drag it on its back toward the bank.

Such a plan required that the boar be dead though. The animal shook free of his grip as though he was nothing at all and spun around in a fury of splashing water. Like his partner, Arthur thought it was time to retreat. Twenty meters ahead two guards brought shotguns to their shoulders. Arthur scrambled as fast as four limbs could take him through water, mud, and grass.

Something hit Arthur's left leg hard below the knee; there were gunshots- he stumbled forward and splashed into a hole of knee-deep water. Gripping handfuls of grassroots with both hands he yanked himself back to his feet. Arthur's left leg buckled under his weight. This time he couldn't gather the strength to pull himself out of the mud- or hold himself up. His weakening arms gave out and Arthur sank gently into the water, muddy brown water that strangely had a significant amount of red mixing in. Someone close by shouted and gripped his right arm. He was being pulled up. Arthur felt like sleeping.

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The smell of rubbing alcohol and the click of footsteps on a hard surface... Arthur opened his eyes, and blinked at bright fluorescent lighting overhead. Slowly he focused; he was in a small bed with a sheet and a white blanket over him- a strange feeling. He raised his sore head to look around the long narrow room, there were several more beds, some like his own had IV bags hanging beside them... a hospital ward, he realized. Five other patients lie on their beds, or sat up chatting with visitors.

His mouth and throat were completely dry. There was a pitcher of water and an empty glass on a small table nearby, Arthur scooted over to the edge of the bed and reached for the pitcher.

"Oh, come on!" He said, barely making a noise. His left wrist was handcuffed to the bed's railing. As he sat up he felt a throbbing pain in his left leg. Arthur threw back the covers to see the leg elevated on a pillow and bandaged from the knee down to his ankle. He wiggled his bruised toes just to make sure they still moved. "That boar..." Arthur remembered. "I got attacked by a fucking boar!"

A nurse walked into the far side of the room with an arm full of towels. Arthur couldn't say anything intelligible so he clapped his hands as loud as the handcuffs on his left wrist and the IV in his right arm would allow.

"Oh, I see you're awake," the nurse made a disapproving noise. "You need to stay in bed for a while and keep that leg elevated."

How exactly a person could leave the bed while handcuffed to it Arthur didn't know but he was more concerned with thirst. Arthur made a gesture as if drinking. The nurse poured a glass of the best water Arthur had ever tasted; he drank it down greedily and then had some more.

"Am I in Rika Chorna?" His voice came out raspy and slurred; his usually nimble tongue uncooperative.

"No, you're in the Provincial Capital of Novo Sokut Tok; Rika Chorna's over a hundred and fifty kilometers away from here by road. The medics brought you in yesterday; this was the closest hospital, I'm not sure you would have made it all the way to Rika Chorna with all the blood you lost."

"Nearly killed by a wild boar? I felt it slash at my leg, never would have seen that coming."

"Wild boar? Young man it was the gunshot wound that nearly killed you, the doctor removed five pellets of shot from your leg last night. One of them hit a major artery, that's why you nearly bled to death."

" Uh... the guards shot me?"

She shrugged. "Well, you shouldn't have messed around with a wounded animal. They said they had no choice but to fire at the beast before it killed you, you're lucky to be alive."

Arthur looked down at the handcuffs and his bandaged leg not feeling very lucky right then. "Nurse... can you unlock these?"

"You're a criminal and you remain in custody, you can't just move around unsupervised. If you need to go to the restroom one of the staff will escort you there and back." She gave Arthur a stern look. "The guards warned us about you; just because you're a patient don't think that you can do what you want. When a doctor or nurse gives you an order, we expect it to be followed, is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am. I'm not going to cause you any trouble." Arthur said. "But could I have paper and pen to write a letter?" She looked suspiciously at him before removing a notepad and pen from the table. Arthur placed the notepad on top of the railing and rolled to the side enough to write with his free hand.

Samantha,

I hope you received my last letter; I haven't had the opportunity to write in a couple weeks for reasons explained below. I got your letter Wednesday, it sounded like you had a pretty good time at the club, and I always thought you had a good singing voice. You asked how I'm doing so I'll catch you up on what's going on with me.

Besides getting in a fight, being attacked by a wild boar, and shot in the leg by a guard everything is going pretty well here. I'm now lying in a hospital bed in a city called Novo Sokut Tok, though I haven't been able to see much of it, I hear it's nice. The nurse said I was very lucky to have survived- I don't know if she meant the boar or the guards. I hope I don't get 'lucky' like this again.

I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll start with the fight. It all began with a joke, the one about the mother who catches her daughter with the baseball team- well, the Danubian I was telling the joke to thought I was talking specifically about his family. Long story short: the guy tried to knock my head off; besides some bruises he didn't do much damage. I was eventually able to explain that I didn't mean to insult him, and he got over it.

The guards were not so forgiving. For the past two weeks both of us were forced to work four extra hours per day as partners, doing all sorts of unpleasant tasks. And that gets me to the part about the boar.

I don't know if they're native or not but there are large numbers of wild pigs here, they seem to enjoy the irrigation canals that we're digging. The guards sometimes hunt them and have pig roasts over at their quarters.

Yesterday three of the guards took us on a pig hunt. They had a blind set up already by a section of canal where they left out food. A guard with a rifle shot an especially big boar, and my partner and I were sent out to into the swamp to retrieve it. The boar wasn't dead, just temporarily stunned and real angry.

I'm not sure what happened next, but the nurse said the surgeon removed five pieces of shot from my leg yesterday. Also I have a couple toenails missing, and the lower part of my foot's black and blue, perhaps the thing bit me.

I haven't talked to the doctor yet so I'm not sure how long I have to stay here, but I suppose I'm going to be on crutches for a while. I'm not...

Arthur put down the notepad as a female doctor walked into the room. She spent a few seconds reading his chart. "Criminal # 88588, did the nurse explain what happened to you?"

"Yes ma'am."

The doctor spoke while writing instructions on his chart. "There was significant muscle damage but that should heal, my main concern is that the wounds don't start bleeding again or get infected. You need to keep it elevated for a couple days to reduce swelling, and stay off of it for two weeks but I expect you will make a full recovery. If all goes well we will release you in a couple days- I suspect you'll be sent back to Rika Chorna."

Arthur thought he should try again. "That's good to hear doctor, but do you think these," Arthur raised his left wrist, "could be taken off."

"You want to be treated like a normal patient?" The doctor smiled pleasantly as she finished writing something on his chart.

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

Her voice went cold. "Then you shouldn't have come into our country to steal from us, should you?"

The doctor was still looking at him. "No ma'am." Arthur leaned back while the doctor examined his leg.