Dig It

Cabot Bronson sweated profusely as he walked down the dirt road in a sparsely populated part of Southern Arizona. He had been riding a dirt bike when it suddenly quit. He had given up trying to restart it, although the gauge indicated there was still half a tank of gas. The damn piece of junk simply wouldn't fire.

Thinking he would come back for it with a truck, he stashed the bike behind some large rocks so it could not be seen from the road. He noted a small cactus nearby which resembled a cross. He would use it as a landmark when he returned for the bike.

The sweat rolled down his back and soaked his jeans and underwear. He was a shade over six feet and tipped the scales at 245 pounds. The extra weight he carried was taking its toll as he slowly lurched down the dirt road.

As he stumbled along, he thought back to the heated argument he and his wife had engaged in before he had jumped on his bike and rode away in anger. He had simply asked June, his wife of 20 years, to speak to her father. He was the owner of Peterson Logistics. Cabot was frustrated that June's father consistently refused to consider Cabot's suggestions.

"Cab, you need to be the one to speak to him," insisted June. "He'll lose respect for you if you go through me to present your ideas."

"He doesn't listen to me," complained Cabot. "He treats me like an idiot who he keeps around because you married me. He shows me no respect."

"That isn't something I can remedy," stated June. "You need to show him your opinions are based on facts gleaned from the data. You've worked your way up and earned your position. Now is the time to be strong and decisive. You cave in to him too easily. Show Dad you have the spine needed to present your ideas, even if he doesn't want to hear what you have to say."

"You don't think I have a backbone?" questioned Cab angrily. "I expect support and encouragement from my wife. Instead, I get condescension and insults. I would think you'd be on my side."

"I am on your side, but I'm not too thrilled at your attitude," retorted June. "Dad built his business because he made tough decisions and took some chances. You need to show him you have some of those traits. Having me lobby him on your behalf is the worst thing we could do."

Cab realized he was on the verge of saying something he would later regret. He stormed from the house, climbed on his dirt bike and took off in a cloud of dust.

"What's with Dad?" asked Cab's 14-year-old son, Dan, to his mother. "He looked pretty mad."

"He's just upset about business and how he's treated by your grandfather. He'll calm down," reasoned June while wishing to herself that Cabot would be more decisive and forceful in his dealings with her father.

"Why is Grandpa so mean to Dad?" asked Dan. "What has he done to make Grandpa treat him like he does?"

"He's not really trying to be mean so much as he's trying to get your father to stand up to him. If your father takes over the business, he'll have all kinds of people trying to take advantage of his good nature," predicted June. "Dad's trying to prod your father into being more self-assured and confident."

"It doesn't seem like running Dad down and insulting him would be the way to increase his confidence," replied Dan.

"I can't argue that," agreed June. "Try explaining it to your grandfather."

Cab was feeling flushed and a bit dizzy as he trudged along. When he heard a truck approaching, he stepped to the side of the road and held up a thumb, indicating he would like a ride. Dust drifted around Cab as the truck immediately slid to a stop. A man a few inches shorter than Cab stepped down from the truck and approached him. The man had a pock-marked face and a greasy looking short beard and mustache.

He surveyed Cab for a full minute before breaking into a crooked grin. Speaking with a heavy accent, he made a suggestion. "Gringo, you are lost. Climb in the back of the truck and we'll give you a ride."

Even in his exhausted state, Cab realized the man standing in front of him was not someone he could trust. Several equally questionable characters were watching from the back of the flatbed Ford.

"Thanks, but I just remembered my wife is going to be driving by soon. I'll just wait for her. I appreciate the offer," responded Cab as politely as he could.

The man in front of him grinned even more before turning to face the men in the back of the truck. Cab saw the slight nod just before the men jumped off the truck and surrounded him.

"I don't know what you've got in mind, but..." was all Cab managed before everything went dark.

The first thing Cab felt was a splitting headache. He slowly lifted his right hand and felt the back of his head. His fingers found a large lump with blood slowly seeping from it. It was very tender to his touch. He was attempting to open his crust-laden eyes when he was suddenly immersed in water.

The shock and surprise caused him to sit up quickly, which in turn caused him to pass out once again. A second dose of water dumped on his face brought him around again. This time, Cab slowly wiped his face and eyes before carefully opening them.

"We have a lot of work to do," stated the man who had first approached him from the truck. He loomed over Cab as he flashed that same miserable grin. "Get up and start helping the others."

Cab looked in the direction the man indicated and saw numerous men with wheelbarrows entering a large cave in the back wall of the large warehouse type building he was inside. As he struggled to stand, he saw several more men emerge from the cave with wheelbarrows of soil and rock. These men pushed up a dirt incline, before crossing a plank placed from the dirt to the rear of a large dump truck. They dumped their loads into the dump truck and headed back toward the cave.

Cab felt a sudden shock and jerked involuntarily. The man next to Cab again flashed his signature grin as he showed Cab the cattle prod he held in his left hand.

"Get that wheelbarrow and get in that tunnel or I'll keep shocking you until you pass out again," promised the miserable bastard as he waved the prod in front of Cab's face.

Cab surprised the man when he suddenly grabbed the prod and jerked it from his hand. He used it as a cudgel and cracked the man upside his head. As the sadistic bastard staggered from the blow, Cab ground the prod into the man's stomach before moving it down to his groin.

A sudden blow to his shoulders caused Cab to drop the prod and fall to his knees. Once the pain subsided, Cab turned to look at his attacker.

"Ramon? What are you doing here and why did you just club me? I need to get back home. What's going on?" asked a bewildered Cab.

"It seems you've disappeared. Your wife and kids are very concerned about your welfare. State Senator Stevens is doing everything he can to console them," replied the man Cab knew as Ramon.

"That's a pretty strange thing to say when you can see I'm standing right here. I may have a few bruises, but I'm okay otherwise. Why did you hit me?"

"I couldn't let you embarrass my lieutenant like that. The workers here need to respect and fear him. Getting the shit kicked out of him by a pudgy Gringo isn't the way to maintain that fear, so I had to intervene.

"This bastard works for you?" asked the Cabot in surprise. "He's a damn sadist. You need to fire his ass."

"I probably should for allowing you to get the upper hand so easily, but I need him. He knows his job and he's good at it. Now he'll have an added incentive to keep your ass in line."

"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded Cab. "I'm not working here. In fact, I'm leaving right now."

Cab saw Ramon nod and he immediately felt pain in his lower back. Once he had regained his breath, Cab turned to see the guy he had smacked with the prod was once again holding it.

"What you're going to do is take a wheelbarrow, go into the tunnel and get to work. You really won't like the alternative, which involves strong batteries and electricity coursing through your body," responded Ramon calmly. "Go now, or Miguel will begin his revenge."

Cab saw the evil smile on the man he now knew to be Miguel as he raised the prod and pointed it Cab's stomach. Without another word, Cab grabbed the nearest wheelbarrow and headed into the tunnel.

His head ached and his hands soon became blistered. By the end of the day, Cab's hands were bleeding, his back ached and he was still fighting nausea. The job was incredibly mindless. He loaded dirt and rocks other men had broken from the back wall of the tunnel and wheeled it to the dump truck. He then went back to the cave and did the same thing again.

Cab could not help but notice how tough and wiry his fellow workers were. He outweighed every other man working there, some by almost double, yet they seemed to have no problem pushing the heavy load up the incline and dumping it. For his part, Cab was huffing by the time he had reached the midway point of the incline. By the time he reached the point where he could dump his load, he was heavily gasping for air.

Cab had no idea how long he had been working, but it felt like an eternity. He was on the verge of collapse when Miguel signaled they could stop for the day. The other men headed to a doorway in a side wall, so Cab slowly followed. When he went through the door he immediately became aware of the sounds and smells of food preparation.

The others formed a line and walked to a station where a skinny old man dished out some sort of rice and bean concoction. Cab had never been fond of Mexican food, but he was salivating at the aromas caressing his senses. The skinny man dishing out the food gave everyone just one large scoop of whatever it was. As hungry as Cab felt, he knew it would never be enough. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, so it could have been days since he last ate.

Cab noticed the others ate their food slowly, savoring every bite, so he forced himself to do the same. What normally would have required about a minute to devour, was stretched out to ten minutes.

Only after the men had finished eating did they begin to speak to each other. Cab only knew a few words in Spanish, but by watching the speakers' eyes and hands, he was often able to follow the gist of the conversations.

"What is your name, Gringo?" asked one of the bigger men seated at the table. Cab was several inches taller than the man and had him by fifty pounds, but the man was obviously rugged and capable.

"My name is Cabot. Everyone calls me Cab, Cab Bronson," stated Cab in what he thought was a friendly manner.

The man looked at him and then broke into a hearty laugh as he repeated Cab's name. "Cab Bronson? Cab Bronson? I think we will call you Cabrón!"

This statement caused gales of laughter from the other men. Cab had grown up with three older brothers and had played sports in high school. He recognized the situation for what it was. They were hazing the new guy. He also was well aware that his reaction to it would go a long way toward determining how the others treated him in the future.

He looked the man in the eye as he waited for the laughter to subside. "That's El Cabrón to you, Asshole."

The man stared back at Cab for a few seconds before breaking into loud laughter. "El Cabrón it is!"

The man then began explaining what had transpired to those who did not speak English. Soon everyone was laughing again. They smiled as they looked Cab's way. Just that quickly, Cab became known as El Cabrón to his workmates.

After dinner, the men drifted into another room which contained a line of homemade bunk beds built against a wall. Cab waited until everyone sat down or stood near a bed before looking for a bunk he could claim. Naturally, the bottom bunks were all taken, so Cab picked a top one near the door. There were a couple of boards nailed across the foot of the bunk. Cab quickly ascertained they were placed there to allow a person to access the top bunk. He climbed up and into his bed, with consisted of two blankets tossed over a sheet of plywood.

To Cab, it seemed like he had barely closed his eyes when a loud bell went off and the others began to sit up, scratch their balls and fart as they climbed out of their bunks. A line quickly formed to the few available toilets. Cab climbed down and stood in the first line. As he did so, he took stock of his body. His hands were still raw and sore. His back felt surprisingly good considering the work he had done the previous day, as well as sleeping on a plywood slab. What did not feel good were his arms, chest and legs. His muscles were stiff and sore, worse than he had experienced during football season in high school.

He made it through the day, but not without considerable pain. His hands were bleeding within a few minutes of starting work. An hour into his shift, Cab ripped the sleeves off his shirt and wrapped them around his hands. The pain was still constant, but the bleeding eventually abated. Surprisingly, his arm, leg and chest muscles loosened up once he began working and did not present too much of an issue.

Cab was touched when several of his coworkers offered encouragement. While eating lunch, a small man named Antonio offered Cam some of his food. Cam was hungry enough to eat everything on the menu at Burger King, but graciously refused Antonio's offer. He knew the smaller man worked hard and needed his nourishment, plus Cab could well afford to lose a few pounds.

Cab lost track of the day of the week. He awoke one morning with the realization he no longer knew what month it was. He was greatly concerned about June and the kids, but the security was tight and he had found no opportunity to escape his situation.

He wondered if everyone had given up him. Did June think she was a widow? Did the kids think he was dead or had forsaken them? He was watched closely, but he knew how difficult that could be over time. Cab was determined to bide his time and wait for the opportunity to escape from the hell he was now living.

He had eventually determined he was in Mexico and working to dig a substantial tunnel deep into United States territory. He had to appreciate the planning and effort that went into the endeavor. Every few days a man, obviously an engineer, inspected the tunnel and took measurements. It was apparent to Cab that the people digging the tunnel had a precise destination in mind. They certainly didn't plan on just popping up in the Arizona desert with the hope the border patrol would not notice them.

After he had been working a month or so, Cab's guards gave him a pair of denim pants. His old jeans had been reduced to rags and the waist was several inches too large. Cab no longer bothered wearing a shirt, once his old one pretty much disintegrated. Cab never asked for another one.

Cab and Antonio became friendly over time. They first used sign language and the few words each knew of the other's language to communicate, but Cab was surprised to discover he had a knack for languages. Eventually, he and Antonio were conversing entirely in Spanish.

One evening as the crew ate dinner, a man sitting several chairs away from Cab suddenly began waving his arms and pointing to his mouth. As the others sat and chattered about the situation, Cab stood and moved behind the man. He wrapped his arms around the fellow, pressed a fist into his midsection and jerked it into his upper abdomen hard. Nothing happened, so Cab repeated the process, Again nothing happened and Cab began to worry the man would die, He put a little extra into his next effort and was rewarded when a chunk of hard bread flew from the man's mouth and struck a compadre seated on the other side of the table.

Cab was relieved to see the object dislodge. The fellow's gasps were the best sound Cab had heard in a long time. To his surprise, the others in the room began to applaud his efforts, which had saved the life their fellow worker. Cab graciously bowed to the room and resumed his seat as the applause increased for a brief period. Several of the men called out "El Cabrón" as they applauded. Cab gave a big smile and waved to those who chanted his nickname.

That evening as he stretched out in his bunk, Cab considered what he had learned and how much of his life he had missed while he was being held against his will. Ramon, Senator Steven's aide, knew where he was, but obviously never told the authorities about Cab's situation.

Was it possible Senator Stevens was aware of the tunnel and the men being forced to dig it? That thought concerned Cab since his father-in-law had a rather close business and personal relationship with Stevens.

As an Arizona state senator, Stevens had connections and influence, two of the things June's father highly valued. What if he had somehow became entangled in Stevens' machinations? What would happen to June and his kids?

Were they searching for him still? Had they ever bothered to look for him? Was he even missed by June? He knew the kids would be saddened by his absence, but what about June? How did she feel?

There was also the issue of the tunnel. Cab didn't know the final destination or the actual purpose of the tunnel, but he could make some damn good guesses. It would probably be used for drug and human trafficking. What would happen to the twenty or so men who were digging it? It seemed unlikely they would be allowed to leave and resume their lives. The chances of someone revealing the existence of the tunnel was too great for the top honchos to accept. Cab imagined the bastards making the men dig their own graves before filling them with their bodies.

It seemed highly unlikely the digging of the tunnel would continue much longer. Cab had paced off the length as he pushed the wheelbarrow in and determined it was now almost a full mile. How much farther would they want it to go? Cab had an uneasy feeling about the near future, and how short his might be. He needed to do something soon. He was certain of that. It was better to die trying to escape than digging his own grave before taking a bullet in the head.

The guards had become somewhat lax since there had been so little resistance from the men digging the tunnel. As Cab walked past Miguel one morning, he noticed the man was actually text messaging with his phone. Taking a quick glance around and seeing no other guards near, he acted on impulse. He swung his fist and smashed Miguel on the side of the jaw. The bastard dropped like a rock!

Antonio had been walking behind Cab and gasped in surprise as Miguel went down. Cab had no illusions about what would happen if he didn't manage to escape, so he needed to make certain Miguel wouldn't come around and warn others before he made his getaway.

To that end, he kicked Miguel in the temple with considerable force. He didn't think he had struck him hard enough to kill the man, but that really wasn't a concern. He simply had to be certain Miguel remained silent for a few minutes. By then, it would be over one way or the other.

The only weapons the guards working in proximity to the men working could carry were the damn cattle prods. Cab reached down and grabbed Miguel's from his limp hand. He then decided to see if it was charged, so he jabbed the unconscious man with it. The obvious twitch indicated the prod worked and Miguel was still alive.

Cab moved quickly toward the tunnel. He found a wheelbarrow and guided it toward the entrance with one hand while clutching the prod behind his back. The guard standing at the tunnel entrance gave Cab a brief nod before turned his attention to a man pushing a loaded wheelbarrow toward him. That was all the opening Cab needed. He whipped the prod around and smashed the guard in the face. The man groaned and clutched his nose just as Cab brought the weapon down on the man's head. He fell to the ground and went silent.