Chapter Seven: Witches Don't Always Float

Arthur drove north on Highway 68 with both windows rolled down. The glue that he used on the ceiling panel came loose after only a week, so during the long drive home the tan fabric flapped vigorously against the top of his head. He smelled like Deep-Woods Off and sweat so even the hot humid fresh air was welcome. When Arthur was halfway home a NWS alert came over his radio; the mechanical voice warned that a funnel cloud was spotted five miles to the southwest and the town he was now entering was in the projected path. St. James looked nearly empty though it was quite loud with the tornado sirens activated. Arthur pulled off the road and parked by the gas pumps of a Shell station two miles south of I-44. Inside the building several people were taking cover, one frantic woman even opened the door and waved. "Hey. There's a tornado coming, get inside!"

"No thanks," Arthur stepped out of his old Dodge pickup and looked up. " I don't want to miss anything."

The woman made a disparaging remark and retreated back inside while Arthur walked to a traffic island where he had a good view. For a couple minutes nothing happened, except the sky took on yellowish-green hue and the wind gusted. Arthur turned to see paper bags and other trash skid across the pavement and pile up against the front of the store. When he looked back up it was there. Clouds hundreds of feet across spun directly overhead. It was a beautiful bizarre thing; an inverted whirlpool with its blue-gray swirls and wisps of delicate white clouds that orbited lower. The quickness of its appearance made Arthur wonder how fast these things can drop to the ground. Seconds later sheets of heavy rain blew into the parking lot and obscured the view. The fascinating thing was gone, so a disappointed Arthur ran though the blowing rain back to his truck. Two thoughts occurred to him as he sank down in the seat: 1) he might be able to catch up with the tornado on the interstate and 2) he had forgotten to roll his windows up.

The windy night had made Arthur think about that first experience with a tornado four years earlier. A warm humid southwest breeze had blown all throughout the night, by morning the wind blew at exactly the right speed to make the coils of razor wire above vibrate in resonance. Arthur had been awake for several minutes when a young guard came to unchain him at five o'clock, the guard was probably four years younger than Arthur, but he had the uniform and the power. Having to kneel down to every nineteen-year old guard with a switch and an attitude was just one of many indignities he had come to expect during his stay at the camp. The Major had apparently instructed her guards to watch him for insolent behavior. Kneeling wrong, standing wrong, and many other ridiculous reasons were used to justify a slap, a kick, or a few strikes of the switch.

"Get up on your knees criminal # 88588." Arthur did as he was told so the guard could unlock the chain from a convenient height.

The guard retrieved his key ring, but he wanted to have some fun first. He grabbed a piece of chain half a meter from Arthur's neck and yanked hard; Arthur stumbled but caught himself before he hit the ground. "I said get up on your knees!" When Arthur got back into position he received a hard slap across the face. It was nothing unexpected; most of the other guards did the same or worse. Arthur knew it wouldn't last long though, if he gave no response the guard would quickly grow bored with him. "Are you trying to disrespect me criminal # 88588?"

�No sir." Arthur remained still and expressionless while the guard unlocked the chain.

�Good, a dishonored criminal like you has to learn his place. Get up and join your work crew." Criminal # 88588 walked east to join the rest of group 13 as they went to the mess hall.

By the time breakfast was over the rumble of thunder was constant to the west. The criminal work crews lined up near the gatehouse, but the guards made no move to chain them together or send them off to work. As the storm approached the winds died down and the light permeating the thick clouds overhead changed noticeably to a peculiar yellowish hue. From what Arthur had seen Danubia's weather was kind of dull compared to the central US, but this morning with the high humidity and warm air, conditions looked favorable for a storm. The guards nervously watched as the dark clouds moved closer, and after a close lightning strike the work crews were sent back to their barracks.

The Danubian criminals gathered in several groups and Arthur stood alone by the window. They had been unfriendly even before the restrictions, perhaps they didn't like foreigners, or it could be something to do with his crime though, Arthur thought, all of them must have also committed crimes. If he was unpopular before the restrictions, now he was radioactive, the other criminals didn't even look at him any more.

A powerful gust slammed the front door shut, something landed on the roof with a bang, and the power to the barrack's two dangling light bulbs went out. Arthur observed the storm from the window by his cot. The town's storm drains and culverts were clearly overwhelmed by the heavy rainfall, the central street became a small river that carried trashcans, boxes, crates and all the other flotsam of the town's existence down slope to the east. Another storm followed the first, with less wind but plenty of lightning strikes and torrential rain. After two hours of heavy rain the stream running down the central avenue covered the train tracks and lapped at the sidewalk. Townspeople worked in the pouring rain to keep the flood-waters out of their stores; they stacked rows of sandbags a meter high against the storefronts.

Arthur was not the least bit sympathetic, though he tried to not let any of the Danubian criminals see him smile. When a guard slipped and comically tumbled down the stream with the other debris, he couldn't help but chuckle. "The Destroyer must be pretty pissed off today." Arthur remarked in English. There was a commotion near the back door as a rivulet of muddy water meandered across the barrack's concrete floor. What the Danubian criminals were so upset about was a mystery, Arthur certainly didn't care if the canvas cot that he wasn't allowed to sleep on anyway got wet or if his buckets floated around a bit.

A third hour of heavy rains fell. The storms were proving disastrous for Novo Sumi Ris but for criminal # 88588 the flood was an interesting and deeply satisfying event. flood-waters overtopped the sandbags and inundated the stores along the central street as the shop owners' feeble attempts to stop nature's power failed. Those townspeople who had stared at him and enjoyed his pain and humiliation during that long march back through town following the switchings; those people, Arthur coldly observed, were now having their own desperate struggles. He stood in knee-deep water by the window and watched large pieces of lumber from broken up houses float up against the perimeter fence; in the distance a motorboat struggled upstream toward a flooded house. The rain slacked up just enough to see the attempted rescue a couple hundred meters up the main road. An old woman waved for help from the attic window of a small yellow house, her porch and most of the first floor was now underwater. "You're not looking so proud now, are you granny?" Arthur spoke in her general direction, while reveling in the chaos outside.

----------

Late that afternoon a miserable guard waded into the barracks and announced the news that the levies east of town were in danger of collapse. All the criminal work crews mobilized in an effort to shore up the levies. Over two hundred criminals gathered near the gatehouse to put on their boots and gloves; Arthur reached underwater and tightened up the boots' laces, wrapped them around his ankle twice and tied a firm knot. Though he wasn't the least bit interested in helping the townspeople who regarded him as little more than a slave, he was eager to see the stream at its flooded best. The warden stepped out on his porch and gave a speech that epitomized leadership: he would coordinate efforts from his office while his subordinates would go out in the storm and take charge of individual work crews.

The Ministry of Public Works had several four-wheel drive trucks that were kept at a garage set on higher ground. The guards loaded truckload after truckload of criminals into the beds and drove off toward the worksites spaced along the failing levies. Arthur and fifteen other criminals were loaded up like cordwood and driven along a rough dirt road that paralleled the stream. The truck stopped on a curve in the road about five meters above the flood-waters and one of the foremen that Arthur recognized stepped out of the passenger side and took charge. The earthen levy was pathetically small compared to the raging stream it was expected to contain, three meters of unconsolidated sediment high and six wide. A fresh bundle of sand bags lay in the mud and the foreman was impatient to get them filled.

Arthur and the other fifteen criminals filled and stacked sandbags on top of a section of levy for the rest of the day and into the night. The rain slowed occasionally but it never stopped. Arthur heaved another sand bag on his shoulder and waded toward the flooded levy, again the foreman's hoarse voice demanded that he move faster. Even after hours of work the flood-water lapped at the levy's top and multiple channels eroded though. The foreman would never admit it, but it was over, the whole section was about to breach. Arthur climbed the levy's north slope and threw down another sandbag on top of the pile; then he waded back through waist-deep water to repeat the same futile action; looking around, he wondered how many of these yahoos can swim.

Headlights illuminated torrential rain as Arthur put another soggy bag on his shoulder. The vehicle approached quickly, too quick to make the curve on a flooded dirt road. Arthur dropped the bag and stepped to the side as one of the guard's off-road trucks slid off the road and made an impressive splash in the waters behind the levy. When the water was up past the headlights the engine died. An argument was already taking place as the driver's door sloshed open; the irate female voice coming from the passenger seat was one Arthur recognized instantly. He found the discarded sandbag in the muddy water and turned toward levy quickly, just not quick enough.

�You, criminal # 88588. Come here, now!" Major Drazetka threw her door open and shined a flashlight in Arthur's eyes. She stepped out into water above her knees and grasped the bed to pull herself up to the muddy but still unflooded ground. With a furious scowl on her face she pointed to the ground. Arthur realized with some disbelief that she was actually going to make him kneel down to her in the mud during a thunderstorm. He lowered the sandbag to the ground and reluctantly got into position in front of the Major, then a foot on the back of his head pressed his face further into the soft mud.

�When a guard gives you an order you will comply without hesitation!" She shouted. "Is that clear criminal # 88588?"

Arthur struggled to speak with his face half submerged. "Yes officer."

She pushed off with her foot and moved to his side. "You will obey! Do you think you can disrespect me because you're an American?" Arthur felt the impact of her switch several times across his buttocks and thighs, then the Major rapidly laid down three burning stripes across his left side. There was no aiming or control to the beating, the Major was simply furious and taking her frustrations out on her favorite target. "Here you will find that disobedience will gain you nothing but pain. You and those American girls are property." Arthur felt two more wild strikes across his ribs and then she paused, breathing heavy. "You are nothing but a dishonored criminal, do you understand me?" She punctuated the last word with another swing of the switch. "Answer me!"

Arthur struggled to take a breath and answer the guard. "Yes... officer."

�Stay in position and wait, I had better not see you move!" Major Drazetka walked back toward the stranded truck and shouted a series of insults at her hapless driver.
The Major left her underling with the stranded vehicle while she dealt with the matter of the cargo. They were delivering bundles of empty sandbags to a crew working further down the creek, and with the truck sidelined she decided that a criminal could be put to use. With a flashlight in her right hand, Major Drazetka ordered Arthur to unload one of the twenty-kilogram bundles. After minutes spent kneeling he finally was able to stand again, he wiped the mud away from his eyes and then got the bundle of sandbags balanced on a shoulder.

The primitive dirt road that paralleled the stream ran precariously close to the bank, so Arthur had to be careful moving as fast as the Major demanded. She focused her flashlight mostly in front of her own feet; Arthur relied on the frequent flashes of lightning to find his way down the road. After a few minutes he shifted the load to his right shoulder, paused briefly and then continued forward but instead of stepping on the road his foot went into an unseen gully. He stumbled forward and the package slipped from his arms and rolled toward the bank.

Major Drazetka's flashlight beam found him almost immediately. The sounds of the storm obscured her shouted words but from the way she reached toward her belt her intentions were clear. Arthur scrambled in the direction that the package had tumbled. The Major ripped the switch out of her belt and charged forward, she was so furious that she didn't even bother to point her flashlight toward the ground. Lightning struck a tree just across the creek, Arthur looked back again, and the Major was gone. A beam of light shined up from the flooded stream. Arthur looked over the edge. "That bitch stepped off the fucking bank." The euphoria was brief. "Oh shit, no witnesses! If she drowns they might think I killed her!"

Grappling muddy tree roots and brambles Arthur lowered himself three meters down to where the flashlight fell. He dropped with a splash onto a submerged rock ledge in knee-deep swift water and tugged the flashlight from a tangle of roots. Arthur searched the water downstream; twenty meters away there was a large willow hanging over on its side in the swift current, and in the middle of the tangled mass of half submerged branches an arm moved and a face was visible in the churning water. The tree twisted and surged in the swift current; the Major's head was sometimes above and sometimes below water level as her body moved with the tree limbs that trapped her.

Arthur realized there wasn't much time to make a rescue attempt. He jumped in and let the current carry him downstream toward the tree's thick roots that clung like gnarled fingers on to the vertical bank. The tree shuddered and jerked underfoot as Arthur climbed out on two of the willow's many trunks, four meters from the bank he got to where the Major was trapped. She was moving but the surge of the current kept her head underwater for several seconds at a time. Arthur put a foot on each of the larger trunks and reached down and grasped her arm; he pulled with all his strength but the force of the current was too much. Arthur realized that since most of her body was swept underneath the main mass of the tree there was no way he could pull her up. A decision had to be made. If she couldn't go up, Arthur reasoned, she would have to go down. The water looked fairly deep below the willow, and if the tree limbs weren't too crowded, a person might be able to pass underneath. However, if it was choked with submerged limbs the Major would drown, but Arthur was willing to take that risk.

Major Drazetka stubbornly held on to the tangle of tree limbs and wouldn't let go. Arthur attempted to pry her hands loose one at a time but with the limbs twisting, the water surging and the Major struggling to drown him too he found it was hopeless. Then he had an idea, one of the larger trunks was about a meter and a half above where the Major was stuck. Unencumbered by any knowledge of standard water rescue techniques Arthur climbed up the trunk above the Major, got to his feet and waited for the tree to surge upward again. As soon as the Major's head resurfaced Arthur jumped and landed both feet on her shoulders, with the full force of his weight hitting her at once she plunged down under the water and was swept beneath the tree. Arthur climbed back on top and retrieved the flashlight. He was eager to see if he had just committed a rescue or a homicide; five meters away an arm surfaced. He dove in, grabbed hold of her and swam.

Fifty meters downstream Arthur managed to drag the Major into a side channel where the water was backed up and not so swift, he pushed her body on top of some tree roots and then he heard her cough. Rescue it was. Arthur hauled himself up through the vines and brambles that covered the steep bank, and then reached back and dragged the groaning, coughing Major behind him. They moved inches at a time until the slope lessened and Arthur was able to stand and grapple the Major over his shoulders and then carry her out near the road. There his foot slipped in the mud and they collapsed in a pile on the muddy road surface. The flashlight was lost somewhere in the flooded stream but frequent lightning lit the scene quite well. Major Drazetka had half her shirt ripped off, her hat and left shoe were missing, and like Arthur she was coated in the sticky red clay from being dragged up the bank. She had some obvious injuries. There were several bleeding cuts and scrapes across her face and arms and the Major clutched her shoulder and chest near the collarbone. He wondered if she knew how she got that particular injury. After a minute's rest Arthur got to his feet and looked down at the disheveled Major who lay there in the mud retching, groaning, and coughing up water. "That's odd," he said in English. "I thought witches floated."

Minutes passed before the Major recovered enough to struggle to her knees. Arthur thought this was his chance to gain something from the whole misadventure. He organized what he wanted to say in his mind and then in his still rough Danubian he slowly and clearly addressed the guard.

�Major Drazetka, It must be a terrible embarrassment to be rescued by a dishonored criminal such as me. What will the other guards think? Not only did you walk right off the bank because you weren't paying attention, then you panicked and got yourself trapped in submerged tree limbs, but now you owe your very life to a criminal." Arthur tried mightily to water down the sarcastic tone. "Of course, they don't have to find out, do they? We could make a deal to keep this unfortunate event just between you and me."

She spit out some of the blood that had collected from her torn upper lip, and spoke in a hoarse voice. "And what would you want?"

�I will keep my silence if you release all the special restrictions on both me and the two American girls for the rest of our time at camp."

�A dishonored animal forcing me to... Aaghh" She was in obvious pain as she turned toward Arthur. "I should kill you for trying to manipulate me!" She struggled into a standing position, then gave Arthur a look of pure malice and spit out more blood at his feet. "Very well, spy. You have your deal, and you had better keep it." She had another fierce bout of coughing while clasping her injured shoulder and chest. "If... If anyone ever hears of this I will bring that confession of yours before a judge and make you pay!"

Though countless properties were being destroyed in the fury of the storm, and they walked back through hail and driving rain, Arthur thought it was one of the greatest nights of his life. Not only had he gotten the restrictions removed but also during the rescue he had apparently broken the Major's collarbone and gotten away with it. She wouldn't feel like beating anyone for several months now, but Arthur would be sure to look concerned instead of euphoric as they loaded her up in the ambulance.

----------

The flood-waters dropped as fast as they had risen, four hours after the crest the stream was back within its banks. At first light the next morning the criminals were put to work clearing storm debris off the roads and helping residents who requested assistance. Arthur and a few others were ordered to help the homeowners of a fairly large multi-family house that had an enormous pile of storm debris dumped against the front porch. The men were gone but two women and five kids were there, two of the older ones even assisted the criminal work crew with the cleanup. They had cleared most of the debris by noon when a group of female criminals came by to deliver lunch.

Arthur stood in the shade on the north side of the house and ate his lunch alone. As he ate he became aware that the two oldest kids were staring at him curiously and whispering. It was the boy and girl, probably siblings, who had helped some with the cleanup. Arthur turned toward the two children who had moved even closer and continued to look curiously in his direction. "Go ahead, ask your questions."

�We were wondering why you're standing over here eating all alone." The girl ventured.

�I'm eating alone because the guards don't allow me to talk to other criminals." In yet another humiliating episode Arthur had to explain himself to the eleven or twelve year old children. "As for why I'm standing, well, its not real comfortable to sit down yet."

"Why do you talk like that?" The boy tilted his head to the side like a curious dog.

�I'm an American, I've been here since May. I'm trying to learn your language but it's difficult."

�I've never even seen a American before." The surprised girl exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Arthur wished these children would just go away. "I was arrested after my employer and I broke into a building to steal data from a computer in Rika Chorna."

The girl's eyes got wide. "You're the American spy that was on TV? You're Lik-kikt?"

Arthur really didn't expect to be recognized. "Yes, but my name is pronounced 'Lig-Gett'; everyone calls me # 88588 now. So you heard about me on TV?"

�Yeah, they showed the trial twice and they talked about you and that dead guy a lot on news shows."

�So, what did they say about me on TV?"

She glanced up as if remembering. "Um... they said you were an enemy and a spy, and... that you wanted to steal our resources, and Um... that you would kill people for money, and they said you were corrupted by the Destroyer, and too dangerous to let loose..."

The boy smiled and interrupted. "Most people thought they should just shoot you."

Arthur had that sinking feeling in his stomach. "Do you think most people know who I am? I mean most of the public, your parents, your neighbors, the people in this town."

�Yeah, your famous. Everyone knows about the American spy."

Infamous would be the right word. Arthur was beginning to understand why even the Danubian criminals had been so unfriendly. "Thanks for the information kids, but your mother probably wouldn't like you talking to me would she?"

�I guess not, but you're not that dangerous any more are you?"

�No... No, I suppose I'm not." Arthur excused himself by saying that he had to get back to work.

The work crews returned to camp late in the afternoon. The barracks had a band of drying red mud up three feet on the sheetmetal wall and the floor was covered in silt. Arthur used his bucket, which had filled up with rainwater and hadn't floated away, to scrub the sticky red clay off his skin; before he was completely finished there was the announcement he was waiting for. "Criminal # 88588, you are to report to the warden's office immediately." The electricity was back on again so the announcement came over the P/A system.

�Stand up criminal # 88588." The warden had the manner of a disinterested bureaucrat; he turned in his swiveling office chair and pulled a yellow folder from a shelf behind his desk. He smoothed down his gray mustache with the thumb and index finger of his left hand, before opening the folder and looking to Arthur. "This is your file, we organize these by conduct, and you have a yellow folder because of the disciplinary violations you've had here at the camp." The warden took a drink of coffee from a gray mug with the Public Works seal on the side. "My second in command, Major Drazetka, spoke to me this morning about you. She believes that you have reformed your behavior, and should be returned to normal status here at the camp. Is that the case criminal # 88588, will you follow all the rules and regulations, and respect the authority of my guards?"

�Yes sir."

�Good, sign this form. It certifies that you have met the conditions of the disciplinary action, and that you pledge to not violate any other regulations for your remaining time at this camp."

Though his spoken Danubian had improved considerably, Arthur hadn't learned to read or write Danubian any better in the past two months. Arthur pointed to the three blanks at the bottom of the form. "Ya negat rozumigukt." (I don't understand). The warden explained official name, former family name or given name, and date. Criminal # 88588 filled in the blanks and the warden dismissed him.

Arthur finished washing the mud out of his hair and then went with the other criminals to eat supper. It would be good to sit down at the table and eat like a human being again. He soon reconsidered; the judicial switching had only been a few days earlier. Arthur decided that standing by a table like a human being is pretty good too though.

About an hour later Arthur spotted some of the female criminals, they had been busy preparing meals and then cleaning up the mess hall. The Major had agreed to return Samantha and Laura to normal status as well and Arthur was anxious to see them. A chain link fence on the east side of the mess hall separated the two female barracks from the rest of the complex, though during the day the gate in between was usually open.
Arthur and about half the other male criminals were waiting by the gate for the women to arrive. He wondered what it would be like to date a Danubian criminal. Back in the US every girl he had ever went out with made him wait, wait for her to get dressed, or get her makeup on, or get her hair fixed. Even without being allowed clothes or makeup and hair already braided, Arthur decided, being women they would come up with some other delay, it was a law of nature. He almost didn't recognize the two American girls; their hair was done in braids instead of the ponytails they used to wear.

�Hey nice braids, you two look older, more sophisticated."

Samantha smiled. " The other women kept telling us how important it was to have our hair styled right but the Major wouldn't allow it after we got in trouble. Early this morning the warden called us into his office and said that the restrictions were lifted and so a couple girls braided it for us before lunch. I guess your restrictions are lifted too huh?"

�Yeah, I'm reformed too, what a coincidence!" Arthur said. "I decided to tone down the corrupting influence, for a while at least. The warden must have noticed all my good behavior. I kept my buckets immaculately clean and the chain in good condition."

�Arthur," Laura excitedly whispered. "Did you hear that Major Drazetka's gone? They loaded her up in an ambulance last night. They said she fell or something and was hurt pretty bad. Too bad it didn't break her stupid neck."

�Yeah, I heard something about that."

"Oh my god," Samantha had noticed all the purple welts across Arthur's left side. " What happened to you?"

�I had a run in with a guard who had a bad temper and even worse aim. You would think they're recruiting guards from the School of the Blind or something." Arthur shook his head disapprovingly. "I guess there's just no attention to detail any more."

----------

After the flood the three Americans were treated like ordinary criminals, which was harsh by most standards, but better than before. The men's work crews spent their days repairing the extensive damage done by the storm. They patched roads, removed storm debris, and rebuilt all the breached sections of the levy system. Three weeks passed before the criminal work crews went back to their normal tasks. Arthur and the girls met every day after supper in the shade of the big oak tree, while they met under the pretense of more language lessons it was mostly just to talk.

One day Arthur had something he needed to discuss with the Samantha and Laura and it couldn't wait much longer. It was August 30th and their time at the hard labor camp was soon coming to an end. The girls would be sent back to Rika Chorna on the 9th of September, and Arthur would leave the next day. It was time to decide about the future. Thin limber Samantha sat upright with her legs tightly folded and crossed, and Laura reclined against the tree with her legs outstretched, Arthur could never seem to find a comfortable way to rest and fidgeted constantly. After the normal chatter Arthur uncomfortably turned to a more serious subject.

�I think we should come to some agreement. I've thought about our situation at this camp, especially everything that's happened since we got in trouble on the fourth. I don't know for sure but I think that some of the abuses we have suffered here went well beyond what the law allows in the treatment of criminals. From the way the Major reacted it seems that the guards don't want news of what goes on here getting out. I just don't know, but we should think carefully about our options and come to a decision."

�Anyway," Arthur said. "I only see two options. The first is that once we get back to Rika Chorna we could go to Spokesman Ralkliv and tell him everything that happened to us. And the second option is that we keep it secret."

�I want to have the guards held responsible for what they did to me." Laura forcefully stated.

�Yeah, well... I want a helicopter and a pilot." Arthur remarked. "But we've got to be pragmatic here. My concern is that if we find ourselves in court again testifying against the guards we have some serious credibility problems. I'm regarded as an enemy of the state and you two aren't exactly model citizens either. Think of the way a judge would view us. On one side," Arthur gestured. "We have several respected high-level officials of the Ministry of Public Works. On the other side there would be us. I can imagine how that would go!"

" Your honor, I would like to call my three star witnesses, you remember the American spy who's partner shot the police officer? Yes, that one, and to back up his story I have the testimony of two teenage drug users. Yes your honor, the same ones that disrespected the court at their trial."

Samantha was getting annoyed. "You don't have to be sarcastic, Arthur. We can just ask Spokesman..."

"Yes, I think I do." Arthur interrupted. "Spokespersons are not our lawyers, there's no confidentiality, ok? They are part of the Ministry of Justice, so any information you volunteer may as well be said to a cop or a judge. If we make these accusations without any evidence we might be charged with making false statements, perjury, and who knows what else. I don't see any videotapes with you today, or did I just miss them? You have got to understand no one in the government is on our side."

Laura's face was red with anger. "You just want to let them get away with it Arthur? You're just scared; I thought you might stand up for us. You just want us to forget it happened!" She quickly stood up and turned away.

"Laura, you have to think about this." Arthur and Samantha got up to try and stop her, but it was too late, she was already walking away.

"So what do you think we should do, stay quiet or talk to Spokesman Ralkliv?"

�I... I don't know." Samantha looked fragile as glass.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't talk to you like that. I know it's been hard for you here." Arthur felt uncomfortable bringing up the next part. "There's something else. After that confrontation with the Major she had me taken to one of the back rooms in her office and she... she wanted to force me to admit my guilt. I tried to resist but... I just couldn't take any more. After the interrogation she brought me to the warden's office and in front of him and two other witnesses I wrote a statement. I admitted that I had you spread lies about the guards and the camp, as well as several other violations. Samantha, I made our situation worse, if we challenge them that confession could be used against us."

�Did you do that to take the blame for us?" Samantha asked.

�No." Arthur shook his head and made a feeble attempt to laugh. "My motivations were purely selfish, I would have confessed to assassinating Abe Lincoln to make that interrogation end."

�Listen, I'm not asking you to lie," Arthur said. "Just don't volunteer any information that might be used against you. We will be out of this camp in less than two weeks. If we just keep our mouth's shut and don't get into any more trouble our lives will improve. It has to get better doesn't it? Your what 18?"

�I turned 19 in April."

"Then you'll be released when you're 24, you can go back to the US and start your life again. You need to survive these five years and then you can leave. I just don't want you to risk having your sentence lengthened again. If you and Laura decide to report everything I'll stand by you, but I just think that there is far too much to lose and nothing to gain from making those charges."

The whole situation made Arthur angry. "We shouldn't have to make choices like this, they treat us worse than animals. One night when I was chained up out there I was trying to come up with some difference between being a criminal here and being a slave. They tell us where to live, where to work, I've been told several times that I'm government property. They pay us, I suppose, although I've never seen it." Arthur laughed halfheartedly. "I guess one difference is the scheduled beatings, slaves wouldn't have those."

�One time Spokesman Ralkliv explained to me how much better the Danubian system was than the prison systems in other countries. 'Your not going to be locked up,' he says, 'you can have a fairly normal life.' I came to realize that I was in a prison; the wall around Rika Chorna was electronic instead of concrete, but inside that wall they took away everything I had... I think they wanted to break down my mind next and turn me into an unthinking worker... A good slave who will happily do whatever the government says. And having criminals walk around naked after a judicial switching must be an effective way to scare the public. It's almost like wearing a sign 'this is what happens to those who rock the boat,' I can't imagine there's much political dissent here. The government has both a large force of slaves and a docile population. I swear this feels like 1984."

"What happened in 1984?" Samantha asked.

"You know, George Orwell, Big Brother and all that."

"Is he an actor?"

Arthur realized he had been ranting like a madman; he blinked and tried to refocus. "Um... Never mind, I guess what I was trying to say Samantha, is that when I was chained up out there I kept that letter you sent me buried in the daytime but every night after I was sure no one was watching I would dig it up and read it. For five weeks that note was about the only human contact I had, you know, besides guards." Arthur took her hand in his and spoke softly. "Samantha, you took a big risk for me and I appreciate it. But I'm worried, you and Laura have been through a lot and I don't want you to make a big mistake."

Samantha blushed and pulled her slender fingers from his hard callused hand; and then she glanced up with a mischievous smile and shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. "All right, I'll go talk to her. You're still pretty fucked up Spy Boy, but I guess you're right just this one time." The way Samantha could change from shy to bawdy in a split second continued to amaze.

Arthur sat alone beneath the big oak tree and wondered if it was right to try and keep the girls silent about the abuse they had suffered. He couldn't tell them about the agreement he made with Major Drazetka. The Major would hold the confession over his head to make sure he kept his word, but that also meant that the document wouldn't be used against him, unless they tried to challenge the guards. It was best to simply move on; Arthur didn't believe in moral victories anyway, those were just defeats by another name.

----------

The Not so Secret Agent - Chapter 8