Page 28 of Hidden By the Convicts
“Why the hell would I be jealous of a kid who goes out of his way to make himself liked? He tries too hard. Fuck, if it doesn’t work though.”
“No, you don’t sound jealous at all,” Bowen said, trying to hide his smile.
“Fuck you, Bowen. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I want her too, but she’s not ready for me. I’m not exactly gentle.”
“And you think I am?”
Gavin had such a harsh look on his face that Bowen had to ask, “Are you?”
“Depends on the woman, I guess. With her? Yeah, I’d be gentle. She needs it, and she’s small, fragile looking.”
“She’s not fragile, not physically.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going near her. I’m too old for her. She’s twenty-seven, Bowen. I’m forty-one.”
Bowen caught a glimpse of black uniforms coming down the hill. “Fuck. Mozely and three guards heading this way. Get back to the greenhouse. Make sure you get her out of there. I’ll stall them in case he plans to head your way next.”
Gavin slid out of sight as Bowen bent over for another tool.
When Mozely reached the tarp, he dumped a bin of foul-smelling, wilted crops at Bowen’s feet. “An entire field of paoli shoots ruined. That would have fed all of West Side for a month. What are you going to do about it, Bowen?”
“I told you five of six harvesters broke down over the past two weeks. I’m running the remaining harvester all day and night and using prisoners to harvest the rest, but we don’t have enough prisoners in East Side to do the work of the machines. If you’d get Ren over here to fix—”
“You think Narkos’ top engineer has nothing more important to do than fix your damn machines? He has to keep those mines running or we don’t meet our zurlite quotas. The Company doesn’t care about paoli shoots. Just the zurlite we export. But those miners depend on the food we produce over here. You have the resources you need. Make it work.”
“To pick the quantity of food needed, we need working harvesters. Or several hundred men to pick the crops. You want me to feed West Side, then get me an engineer over here to fix the harvesters!” Bowen shouted. He’d gone without much sleep this week, spending countless hours trying to fix the damn machines, and Mozely stood there asking for the impossible. Bowen didn’t have a background in fixing farming equipment. He barely knew how to run the things.
Mozely’s hand went to his side-blaster as he stared at Bowen. “You’re setting a bad example for the other prisoners. I don’t want Dresden to think we’re going soft over here.”
“You don’t expect the miners to extract zurlite without ventilation or pickaxes, so don’t expect me to produce without harvesters.”
“How you harvest is your issue, not mine. There’s a penalty for not meeting your quota. Who are you going to sacrifice? Gavin or Harlis?”
“This is my quota, not theirs.”
“That won’t keep me from punishing them. They’re in your unit. I hear Gavin’s afraid of heights. I know the perfect cliff on the mountain to hang him over till he pisses himself or has a heart attack. Or maybe that young asshole in your unit will OD on Flight or Crash.”
“He doesn’t use. And Cragin will blame you if he ends up dead or unable to work. He’s a chemist. Non-expendable. They both are.”
“Getting him addicted to Flight will make him easier to control. I have a few guards that will help him along. Yes, that might be the way to go. Or maybe I’ll punish both, then you’ll know I’m serious.
“Thompson,” Mozely called over to one of the three guards talking by the maintenance shed. “Head over to the greenhouse and haul Gavin up to that section of the mountain where the nelim leans over the edge. And bring a rope.”
Bowen couldn’t let the guards touch Gavin or search the greenhouse and find Teagen. And Harlis. . . If they got him addicted to Flight, he’d never get off the stuff.
These guards would destroy Bowen’s unit, men he’d sworn to protect. As for Teagen, he wasn’t sure she’d survive the guards again. Certainly not for ten years. He had to protect her, no matter the cost.
Bowen punched Mozely in the face and started pummeling the man. Three seconds, tops, before the guards hauled him off of the senior guard. One guard punched Bowen in the stomach while two others helped Mozely up. Bowen knew attacking Mozely could get him sent back to West Side, to the mines, but he had to stall them, keep them from finding Teagen.
“Fucking asshole!” Mozely screamed. “Throw him in the cage!”
* * *
TEAGEN
Teagen paced the small house.It had been three days since Bowen had been thrown into the cage, as the guards referred to the hole in the ground over by the barracks. She’d seen a man thrown in there once. The hole was tight, much smaller than the pit that her guys had dug for her.
