Chương 132

By sunset, Louis had changed oil in three trucks and spilled enough of the fourth for Maeve Fyres to call him useless in front of the yard crew. The other workers laughed again when she told him to clean the spill with rags. He did it without speaking, kneeling in the oil while it soaked through his gray jumpsuit at the knees. They worked until evening, when the loudspeaker crackled.

"Second yard crews, secure tools. Mess hall call in ten." Maeve hung her rag on a hook near the tool rack.

"Wash your hands, D-Class. And don't you dare track grease into the mess hall or you'll starve tonight." Louis stood with his back aching and his fingers smelling of fuel and oil. He scrubbed his hands at the wash station until the skin felt raw, then followed the other workers out of the fenced yard. Across the road, workers moved toward a long brick building with red banners hanging from its upper windows. Two guards at the entrance checked cards and waved people through. Inside, the mess hall was large and loud.

Long tables filled the room in strict rows. At the far end, kitchen workers served beans, potatoes, cabbage, cornbread, stew, and black coffee from steel trays. Above the counter hung a portrait of Lenin in a dark wooden frame.

"Keep moving," someone said behind Louis. He took a tray and moved with the line. A man in a stained apron put food on his tray. Louis scanned the hall as he moved away from the counter. Then he saw them. Angelique stood near the third row of tables, still in gray, hair tied back severely. A card hung at her chest. Gladice stood beside her with a dark bruise forming along one cheekbone. Willa had oil or coal dust on one sleeve and looked exhausted. Donya stood close to Cherish.

Cherish's eyes were red again, but dry. Savannah stood slightly apart from them. She had been given a dark work shirt instead of the gray jumpsuit. They saw him almost at the same time. He almost smiled. They were all alive. He moved toward them. They had saved him a space at the end of a table. He sat between Savannah and Angelique. The others pulled benches close.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked quietly. Gladice touched her bruise.

"We're alive. And we got to keep our underwear. That's something." Angelique looked at him.

"Did they hurt you?"

"No. They assigned me to the motor pool." He held up his hands.

"Changed oil in three trucks."

"Serves you right." Gladice sniffed her plate.

"At least they didn't assign me to the mines." Cherish was staring at the portrait of Lenin on the wall.

"Who is that man?" she asked.

"Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov," Willa said without looking up from her stew.

"Lenin. Marxist revolutionary, founder of the Soviet Union."

"What's the Soviet Union? And what's Marxist?" Cherish looked at the portrait, confused.

"They never taught you history?" Angelique asked. Cherish shook her head.

"I never went to a school. Mama taught me how to read and write. And about the Bible." Savannah looked at her plate.

"Figures." Before Willa could continue, a whistle blew. Everyone in the mess hall stood. Those already standing straightened. The talking stopped. At the front of the hall, a woman in a red armband climbed onto a low platform beneath the Lenin portrait. Her iron-gray hair was cropped close to her head. She spoke through a megaphone.

"Comrades," she said.

"Today our People's Army struck a blow against the toll regime and its imperial backers." She paused.

"An enemy convoy was destroyed. Its vehicles burn. Its assets are seized. The stolen resources of West Virginia will now be returned to the workers." She looked over the hall.

"This is a victory. A victory for the people. But the fight is not over. The reactionaries still cling to our roads. The capitalists still bleed us for profit. The land is not yet free." Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. No one moved.

"We will continue to fight. We will take back what is ours." She raised one fist.

"Never forget the class struggle!"

"Never forget the class struggle!" everyone answered in ragged unison. She stepped down from the platform. The whistle blew again. Everyone sat. Voices rose again, benches scraped, and trays moved across the tables. Louis and the others sat too.

"Great," Gladice whispered.

"Now we're in a real revolutionary paradise."

"Be quiet," Angelique said, her eyes scanning the room.

"How did you all get assigned?" Louis asked.

"Savannah, Angelique and I are in the laundry," Willa said.

"I'm in the textile mill," Donya added.

"Spinning cotton."

"Me too," Gladice said.

"Stitching uniforms for the army. I'm already planning to sabotage the crotches."

"And Cherish?" Louis looked at her. She shook her head once.

"Kitchen. Washing dishes. They said I was not strong enough for other work." Maeve came to the table with her own tray and dropped onto the bench without asking. Gladice looked at her.

"And you are?" Maeve tore her cornbread in half.

"Hungry."

"What do you want, Fyres?" Louis asked. She chewed and swallowed before answering.

"Just making sure you don't cause trouble."

"We ain't looking for trouble," Savannah said. Maeve shrugged.

"Good. Because if you do, I'll report you myself."

"Generous," Angelique said. Maeve kept eating.

"You're the one with the fancy talk, aren't you?"

"Yes," Angelique said.

"Don't use it here. It won't help." Maeve ate more beans.

"And keep your bourgeois words to yourself." Louis set down his spoon.

"What did we ever do to you?"

"You are collaborators with the toll dogs." Maeve pointed her fork at him.

"That's all I need to know."

"We were just passing through," Savannah said. Maeve gave a short laugh.

"Save that shit for the committee."

"Then why are you here?" Gladice asked.

"If you dislike us so much?"

"Somebody has to watch you," Maeve said.

"Especially you." She pointed her fork at Gladice.

"You look like trouble." Gladice grinned.

"You have no idea." Willa said, "We don't want problems. We just want to go home."

"Where is home for you?" Maeve asked.

"I don't know anymore." Willa looked down at her tray. Louis ate a spoonful of beans. They were tasteless and watery.

"We were kidnapped," he said.

"The Holy States took us from our homes. We escaped. We are just trying to get back." Maeve stopped eating.

"Why would the Holy States kidnap you?"

"Because of who I am." Louis looked at her.

"They want to use me against my father."

"Ah." Maeve leaned back.

"Politics. Of course."

"Does that make us less of a threat to you?" Angelique asked. Maeve turned to her.

"No. But it makes you more interesting." Louis said, "How long will we be kept here?"

"Until the committee decides what to do." Maeve took a sip of coffee.

"Could be weeks. Could be months. Could be years." Cherish drew in a short breath. Donya put a hand on her shoulder.

"Years?" Louis kept his voice level.

"Depends how much labor they think you can do." Maeve pointed her spoon at him.

"You're strong, but clumsy. They might keep you in the yard."

"And the rest of us?" Savannah asked.

"Depends on what the leadership needs." Maeve shrugged. Angelique said, "And who is the leader?"

"Leaders." Maeve looked at her.

"The Central Military Committee."

"Who is on the committee?" Angelique pressed. Maeve hesitated, then smiled.

"That's classified."

"Course it is." Savannah sighed. Louis looked around the hall.

"Do you believe in this place?" Maeve stopped chewing.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you think this is the future?" Louis said.

"The working class in charge?"

"You think it's not?" Maeve's voice hardened.

"From what I see, it's still armed men telling everyone what to do." Louis gestured with his spoon.

"Just different uniforms." Maeve set down her spoon.

"Watch your mouth, bourgeoisie. You don't know what we've been through."

"I know you have a lot of guns and not much food," Louis said.

"And that you took us prisoner because someone told you we were valuable." She stared at him.

"You will write a very long apology letter for that."

"I'm not sorry." Louis looked at the others. They were all watching him.

"Then you will write again and again until you are." Maeve stood up with her tray.

"And you'll do it after your shift. I'll make sure of that." She walked away without another word. No one spoke until she was gone.

"She's angry," Cherish said quietly.

"She's afraid," Willa said.

"And she has reason."

"But she ain't wrong about one thing," Savannah said.

"We need to be careful here."

"I agree." Angelique looked at Louis.

"No more provocations."

"What's the fun in that?" Gladice asked.

"This isn't fun, Glads." Angelique looked at her.

"This is survival."

"Yeah, yeah." Gladice sighed.

"Still sucks." Donya looked at Louis.

"What are we going to do?"

"First, we survive," Louis said.

"Then we find a way out."

"Do you think your father will come for us?" Cherish asked.

"He will kill every last one of these commies if he has to," Gladice said.

"No talk of violence," Angelique warned. Gladice rolled her eyes.

"Fine. We'll bake them cookies instead."

"Let's finish eating," Louis said.

"Then we'll see what the night brings." The whistle blew again. People began rising with trays. Guards moved along the side aisles. The gray-haired woman returned to the platform beneath Lenin's portrait.

"Shift end. All workers report to evening instruction." Donya groaned softly.

"What the hell is evening instruction?"

"Probably more propaganda," Gladice said.

"Great." They stood and carried their trays to the cleaning window. A man took the trays without a word. The guards herded them toward a door at the back of the hall. Louis glanced at Angelique as they walked. She shook her head once. They left the mess hall together and stepped outside.