Learning to Spy (3 page)

His other hand tickled across my bare stomach at the edge of my top, but I stepped around the table to where my books still sat and quickly scooped them into my arms. I clutched them to my chest, facing him now but not meeting his gaze.

I’d been dodging this issue for months it seemed. I really didn’t want to put Jackson off or make him hurt like he said I did, but I was scared Braxton’s stories of hell fire might be right. And we were so close to getting married. I was sure we could wait just a little longer, if only to be on the safe side. I didn’t want God holding something against us or deciding he was mad at me for breaking one of his big rules.

Our farm would rely heavily on things like enough rain and freezes hitting at the right times—things that were actually called “acts of God” by the insurance guys. Us screwing around seemed like the best way to sink our chances.

Jackson picked up his keys. “You’re right. We’d better get to school.”

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A
baritone voice pulled me from the memory.

“Are you okay?” I looked up and Gallatin was standing right in front of me. His hair hung down over that scar on his cheek, but his other golden eye was studying my face. I could almost see that little shine in it that had made me think of a cat. I looked down and saw my milking was done.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, picking up the pail.

“Did you work too hard? Your cheeks are red.”

Knowing I was flushed only made me blush harder, and I kept my eyes on the floor as I walked to the churn. I lifted the wooden lid and poured the milk into the base with the first batch I’d collected. I could feel his eyes still on me, but I replaced the lid and started moving the plunger up and down.

I heard him exhale as he took my stool over to the third cow. After a few moments, the hiss of milk hitting metal caused me to glance back at him. His head was against the cow’s belly, and he was working quickly to finish our additional chores. The scar across the back of his hand grew wider and narrower as his olive fist moved. He finished before I was done at the churn, but rather than bringing his pail to where I was, he went to the other area and turned his back to me.

As he worked, I studied his back. In the coveralls, it was hard to make out much about him physically, but I could see he was tall and slim like Cato. He was younger than her but it didn’t appear to be by much. He sniffed and pushed his sleeves up, and I frowned at what I saw. His arms were muscular, meaning he’d be hard to overpower, but they also showed more scars like stripes up the backs of his forearms. He was an experienced fighter, but where and why? He seemed too young to have been in any real battles, yet these injuries were clearly old.

I couldn’t spend any more time wondering because my work was done. I took the churn to the back of the barn where Oma waited to take it from me to the kitchen. As I quickly crossed to the door, the only sound was the soft thump of Gallatin’s plunger and the occasional snort of a cow. Just as I was leaving, I heard him speak.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help today. I’ll take two tomorrow.”

He didn’t look at me as he spoke, so my eyes moved around the barn. No one was in it but us and the cows. I nodded and then stepped out into the dark night.

The yard was empty as I crossed it fast, almost jogging back to the dorm. Once I was safely inside our sleeping area, I leaned against the wall to catch my breath and calm down. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I might burst into tears.

The pressure was getting to me, and I still didn’t have any answers. What did it all mean? Were any of the stories D’Lo and Braxton told me true? And if they were, then what? We had to wait here to see what these “aliens” would do next? I wasn’t sure I could hold up much longer.

I pressed the back of my head against the wall and inhaled the familiar smell of our quarters. A hint of bleached mildew, the lemony scent of the standard-issue soap and deodorant we were all given. It hadn’t rained since we’d been here, so the air was slightly drier than usual. Still it was hot, and the humidity was always with us.

It was quiet in the quarters except for D’Lo’s deep breathing and the sound of someone snoring that carried through the wood partition. I walked toward my bunk but stopped when I heard a sound I recognized. I’d heard it that first night I’d dreamed of Jackson. It was a sniff, followed by silence. Then tiny whimpers and another sniff. It was coming from the back corner. Adrenaline pulsed in my veins making me antsy as I crept toward the sound. It was Flora. She was crying.

Her back was to me, but I knelt beside it and reached out to smooth her hair away from her face. She jumped around, and let out a quiet squeal.

“It’s okay. It’s only me.” I said, reaching out and continuing to stroke her hair. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” she said in a thick voice. “It’s just my nose, all the dust. It’s allergies.”

I bit my lip and didn’t answer. I knew what I’d heard, but I didn’t want to push her if she didn’t want to confide in me. I pulled her blanket back and slipped in behind her so my voice was in her ear, barely a whisper

“I’m going to get us out of here,” I said, hugging her waist. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

I felt her nod, but a quiver moved through her body. I squeezed my arm around her waist and gave her a hug. She shook harder at my gesture, and I could tell she was crying again. My own eyes grew warm and my thoughts flooded with memories of Jackson and the way things used to be. I missed my hope, my one-time chance at a better life that now felt far, far away. I was tired of being strong, tired of being the only one fighting.

“I just want to go home,” she said in a broken whisper. “I’m tired, and I miss my mamma.”

Her body pulled inward as she tried to hide another sob, and my throat hurt as I blinked back my own tears. It had been years since I’d cried for my mamma, but I remembered how it felt to crave that comfort. Jackson had taken her place for me long ago, and now he was gone.

I cleared my throat and struggled against my emotions. I had to stay strong for us.

“Shh,” I whispered, hugging her tighter. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll get us out of here, and then we’ll find your mamma. I promise.”

Her cool hand found my forearm and squeezed. I pressed my cheek against her neck and then slipped out of the bed again. Creeping back to my own, I scanned the room. Yolanda slept in the bottom bunk nearest mine on her back, and Roxie was above her, curled in a ball on her side.

I pulled the zipper down on my coveralls and slid my arms out. As I stood in my tank top and boxers in the darkness, I took a big pinch of the skin on my upper arm. Then I ran my fingers back and forth over it for the millionth time trying to feel any sort of plastic thread or chip or foreign object of any kind under the surface.

No matter how hard I kneaded, I didn’t feel anything but my taut muscle. I sat on my cot in the dark and thought about my plan to spy, to infiltrate the enemy. Without any knowledge, it was the only choice I had. As much as the thought of it made me tremble inside, I had to start talking to Gallatin. I had to strike up some kind of friendship with him and gain his trust. And I had to start tomorrow.

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G
allatin wasn’t in the barn the next day. Cato was there talking to Oma and overseeing our work, and she even took a turn on one of the churns, seeming oddly proud that moving a plunger up and down for several minutes produced a ball of butter to be skimmed out.

I finished my milking and made sure my cow had enough hay. Then I carried my pail over to the other churn. I wondered what had happened to my designated partner, but I couldn’t appear too interested at this point. Yolanda did her work and we both met up where Flora waited for us at the wooden cylinder. She didn’t show any signs of remembering our late-night chat, but she did seem calmer, more at ease. I hoped my words had helped her.

We worked steadily and silently until lunch, when we all filed into the large dining hall and sat together. Flora was on my right as always, and D’Lo and Yolanda had been taking turns filling the space to my left. Today it was Yolanda. She looked down as she ate and didn’t seem to care as I sliced and passed the majority of my steak to Flora. But just as one of the watchers moved behind us in the row, she sat up and addressed me loudly.

“I’ve seen some stringy hair on white girls, but yours has got to be the stringiest, Prentiss Puckett.”

I almost dropped my fork, I was so startled. Then I was pissed at her for insulting me like that, like we were back in the school cafeteria and she was still in Star’s clique. She must’ve seen it on my face.

“You ever thought about cutting bangs?” she continued, reaching out to sweep a few pieces of fly-away corn silk off my forehead. “Roxie’ll braid it. Get these little bits that always go in your face. Help you out.”

Her dark brown eyes held mine in a steady gaze, and I realized she was giving me a message. The guard continued walking, unimpressed by our conversation, and I nodded.

“Where y’all gonna be?” I said.

“We usually set out under that shed in the back by the rows. Come over there and she’ll fix you up.”

“Okay.”

I returned to my plate, picking up a few small pieces of meat from the portions I’d dedicated to my friend. I’d lost a little weight since I’d started doing more work and sharing my meals with Flora, but I didn’t mind. Being lean would help me run faster and be more agile when I made my escape. It’d also help me fit in more places and have better endurance. I could feel my body getting stronger every day, and I liked it.

In the shed after lunch, Roxie and Yolanda were waiting for me. D’Lo sat around the corner pretending to nap like he always did in the afternoons after lunch, but I could tell he was awake and listening. Roxie sat on the top of a picnic table that was centered under the tin roof. I sat in front of her on the bench attached to it, and she started parting my hair into sections. Yolanda waited and watched until we were all sure no official eyes were on us.

“You’re a spitfire, Prentiss Puckett,” she finally said. “I know you’re not going to sit here and take this much longer. I want you to know we’re ready to help you.”

I flicked my eyes to D’Lo, who studied us both as he sat with his hat low and his chin on his chest.

“Thanks,” I said. “I need the help, and it’ll be good if we’re all working together.”

I hadn’t expected her to approach me like this, but I was glad we were making it official. I thought about my next words. These girls were tough and not afraid of a fight. Their people’d lived through hell being black in south Mississippi, and I bet the idea of being kept like slaves was grating on them. If anything, they’d want to make a stand just to show they had what it took to make their ancestors proud.

“Did Dee tell you about the chips?” I asked.

Yolanda’s mouth worked into a frown, but she nodded. Roxie jerked my hair tight, and I let out a little yelp.

“Sorry,” she said. “What chips? Y’all didn’t tell me about that.”

My eyes went to D’Lo, but he’d looked back at his boots. Yolanda didn’t seem ready to speak, so I took the lead on this little tidbit.

“There’s a guard working with the guys, and he keeps telling them stuff,” I said. “I think it’s a load of horse crap, but there’s no way to know for sure. It might be true.”

“Okay?” Roxie said. “So what’s the chips?”

“When you woke up, did you have a Band-Aid on your arm like you’d gotten a shot or something?”

She nodded, and I felt a moment of frustration. If only anybody ever said No, I could take a chance that it was a lie. I kept hoping for that to be the case with somebody, but so far everybody’d had the same experience.

“This jackass guard said they put some microchip or something in our arms while we were out. And if we tried to escape, and they found us gone, they’d flip a switch or push some button. Hell, I don’t know what they’ll do. But Braxton said it would send an electric current through our bodies.”

I wouldn’t repeat the part about the brains and scrambled eggs. It made me want to throw up, and I figured the electric shock was scary enough.

“Jesus!” Roxie hissed, pulling my braid tight again. I let out another yelp of pain, and she apologized again.

Yolanda nodded. “You think it’s true, then.”

“Dammit, I don’t know,” I confessed. “You know what I think? I think it’s a big lie. I think it’s all lies. But how do I know?”

We were quiet until D’Lo finally spoke. “These people... aren’t people,” he said. “They’re not like us, I’m telling you. This is some weird-assed shit going on right here.”

The girls looked at him, but I just exhaled loudly.

“What does that mean?” Roxie’s eyes were wide again.

“Means we gotta sit and wait. No trying to escape, and no funny business. Just lay low and see what happens next.” He got up and walked away like he wasn’t going to talk about it anymore. Like he was going to keep dropping crazy bombs and walking away.

“Braxton’s got some wild ideas in his head, too,” I said. “Their guard’s talking a lot of smack. He’s slick. I’ve seen him. I can also imagine he’s laughing at us behind our backs for being scared, gullible hicks.”

Yolanda’s eyes cut to mine. “So what do you think?”

“That woman Cato’s in charge, I’m sure of it. Now that I’m working with her little brother, I might be able to get some answers. He didn’t get here til later, but he oughta know something.”

“How you gonna get him to talk?” Roxie was tying off my braid as she asked.

“Just, you know. Being friendly and stuff.” I couldn’t tell her I had no idea how. “If this chip thing’s true, maybe there’s a main control I can shut off or disable. If it’s a lie—”

“Maybe he’ll tell you?”

“I don’t know.”

* * *

T
hat night as I headed to the barn I thought about my conversation with Roxie. How long would it take before this guy would talk to me? And what if he wouldn’t? He was one of the scariest things I’d seen yet with those wild scars and wilder eyes, and he didn’t seem too happy to be here or too intent on making friends. But I had to do something, and it seemed like this opportunity dropped in my lap. I had to make the most of it. Or at least try.