The Mall, a distant memory, almost a dream now, one he indulged in on particularly cold nights such as this. He couldn't count the days since he'd been there, face were a faded mix, but names he remembered. When the Technos had taken them, trucks filled with what they called as 'virts', KC had seen as familiar faces from the streets; He'd been with some, Andy and Tally, but they'd been quickly separated and he'd been sent to a camp over viewing a mine. And he'd been there ever since.
He'd become a man there, quickly and swiftly, the harsh workings, the brutality of the situation making him more mature beyond his years. They'd even made him an honest worker, enough times of being caught and beaten for stealing a crumb of bread had dealt with that streak. He shuddered at the memory of trying to escape that evening so long ago, they'd beaten him good for that one, and locked him away, he'd known how many days had passed then. He'd scrawled lines for everyday that passed onto the wall; everyday the sun had shone through the small slit and then disappeared as the nights had set in. A mark for everyday a meagre meal and small can of water was shoved through a small hole of the hut he'd been trapped in.
That hut had become familiar, at first the lines had gone to three or four and then he'd be released from the prison. Punishment for retaliation, for losing his cool, for getting caught with his hand in the food basket. But escape had given them longer reason for keeping him cooped up, he'd counted twenty eight lines before the door swung open and he was dragged back to his usual quarters, hungry, thirsty and head and eyes pained by the brightness of the sun.
Since then he'd not been in the hut so much, although his old ways didn't truly depart from him and he still couldn't help but try for that one fix of glorying over the fact he'd managed to steal from them. But all in all they'd created what they wanted, a meek slave to carry out their bidding. That's what they all were in the camp, slaves, no-one spoke or retaliated or turned, they merely did. Followed orders, carried out commands, bit there tongues, did their duty.
The nights dragged on and the days turned colder once more, and here he was lying in a hard wooden bed, thin mattress and even thinner blanket covering him, and all he could dream of was the Mall and past faces. Too much time had passed for him to remember the time before the Mall; he couldn't remember the faces of his parents. How absurd to think that he couldn't remember what his mother looked like, he couldn't remember what his father's voice sounded like. He had trouble remembering the mallrats, but still fleeting memories flashed through his mind now and then and he knew their memories were still inside his head somewhere.
"Number eight three four...bring him out too"
A voice invaded his fractured sleep and KC opened his eyes in a daze, squinting into the night past the shadows of sleeping bodies nearby. A light suddenly shone over him and he looked up at the figure of one of his captors.
"You, up, now" they told him, a sharp order before they stepped back a little.
KC didn't argue, but pushed himself up to sit, sliding his feet into his boots as he pushed aside the blanket. Standing he followed the guard out of hut he shared with several other slaves. He joined a few others, all woken from their sleep and walking in a line towards a forecourt of the camp.
"What going on?" he asked sleepily, to the figure ahead of him
"You, silence," said a guard sidling up to him and cuffing him on the ear.
KC winced in pain but ducked his head down and kept quiet, as they came to a halt, lined up waiting. A few trucks drove into the forecourt and parked.
"Come on, get moving," said a guard gruffly, obviously not happy about having to move slaves in the middle of a cold night, and KC found himself manoeuvred and jostled towards one of the two waiting trucks before he climbed up into the back.
Once the truck as full with ten or so others, guards secured the back doors and the truck pulled off silently on its way. Although weary and puzzled by the night's antics, KC found himself relishing in the heat being created by so many bodies cramped together. The truck drove for many hours, and KC could see the night disappearing as the sun started to rise, its brightness shining throughout the tarpaulin which half covered the back of the truck. A young woman had succumbed to weariness beside him and her head had lolled down on his shoulder, he let it lie there enjoying the hint of human contact that wasn't a fist, or a well aimed boot. A few others also slept through their transportation, but sleep wouldn't come to KC despite his weariness and he was awake when the truck finally came to a halt.
He managed to rouse the young woman beside him from her slumber, before the tarp raised and the back door was lowered once more while they all piled silently out of the truck. A large building loomed up beside him, and KC vaguely recalled it as similar to country estates he'd visited on family outings a long time ago. They lined up outside the stairs which rolled up to the large door. KC watched as it slowly opened and a few men walked out, surveying the small crowd gathered. One of the guards climbed the steps and spoke in low tones to the men before turning and thumbing a direction around the house.
"Come on you lot, move," said a guard, and they all filed away around the large estate house to the back.
Makeshift huts had been erected in what had been large expansive gardens. Fields rolled away into the distance, and KC could see rows and rows of figures toiling in them already.
"Alright you lot, welcome to your new home" said the guard in a gruff sarcastic tone "Come on, make a move on, plenty of work to be done"
They were directed to a pile of old tool, shovels, hoes, picks and the likes and were directed to take one before being led into one of the fields.
"Don't look so disappointed, it's better than the mines right," said a guard, KC noticed the one who had given him a cuff on the ear previously. He leered over to KC, bending low to his ear "Or would you prefer to go back to the mining camp? I do know your fond of your little hole over there"
KC merely gritted his teeth and looked straight ahead. He knew the guard, not by name but certainly from the camp, he'd been on his back since day one, and KC knew they had a certain working relationship going on. He hoped being brought here meant, that that working relationship was going to end.
"Now don't you worry, you'll be treated the same here as you were at the mines. Just a change of scenery is all, you get to do a little gardening work, nice little bit of harvesting and the likes. After all your masters need feeding don't they, need to make money to feed all of you,"
KC tried not to roll his eyes at the running commentary as they walked, the guards seemed to revel in the fact they could make their slavery out to be all in a good cause. They worked, and reaped the benefits by doing something with their lives and having a roof over their heads, a hot meal everyday and a place to sleep at night. If you could call working from dawn to dusk, eating food you wouldn't feed a dog, and a bed so hard and cold sleep would evade you if you weren't so exhausted, a life.
"You there, you there," said the guard after a while, pointing directions and shoving people towards them "You lot follow me"
KC was starting to wish he'd gotten some sleep in the truck as he was walked through field after field, some growing crops, others being toiled by workers.
"You, you and you, welcome to your new work stations," said the guard turning and waving a hand over at a field already being toiled at by workers. Another guard leaning against a fence and enjoying the view of the slaves working, wandered over to them
"These the new ones"
"Yeah, just transported them over from the mine, some of the best workers here"
"They better be, can't afford to lose anymore. Crops need harvesting soon, need all the hard workers we can get"
"These shouldn't give you too much problem, 'cept maybe that one"
KC was used to being spoken about like he wasn't there, and he knew they were talking about him
"Don't want no troublemakers here"
"Well he's been on his best behaviour these past few months, but don't let him fool you. He's had temptations of escaping before, and you know once they get that taste well nothing can shake them out of it, no matter how long in solitary they get"
"Well then we'll certainly be keeping an eye on you" said the guard with a leer before looking over the group "All right you lot, go join the lines, your turning soil here, put your backs into it, the rest of them will show you what your doing"