Highway to Hell

The shovel made a heavy, grating noise as it cut through the pile of gravel, sliding past the larger chunks of rock and sending loose fragments rolling to the ground. It wasn't the noise itself that bothered Freesia – it was the fact that it was about the only constant noise she'd heard for the past week. Lift the shovel. Slide it into the gravel. Lift the gravel. Move the gravel. Repeat. Her arms hadn't been so sore since boot. Every part of her body ached – arms, legs, back, stomach… Especially her stomach. The hole had been patched up, but if she wasn't forced to work she'd probably still be resting. Dropping a shovelful of gravel, she let the blade of the tool dig into the ground at her feet and rested her arm on the handle. With her free hand, she ran her fingers across her lower abdomen. Freesia could feel the bandages through the thin fabric of her prisoner's uniform. There wasn't a sharp pain anymore, but she could still feel a dull ache as she worked. The Imperial medics had told her she was fit for "duty", but she wasn't confident that the wound had completely healed. She'd make sure to have Fina check it out later. Just feeling the bandages put her off. She wasn't the only one who noticed. "You doing alright there?" a voice asked behind her.

Without letting the shovel fall, Freesia turned in place. The figure standing before her was familiar. Tall with dark hair and glasses. Wavy. The uniform the man was wearing, on the other hand, was not. It was the same blue as the Gallian BDUs, but instead of the Gallian insignias it had a dull red stripe running down the outside of each arm on the jacket, and another line running down each leg of the pants. She assumed it was so they could be easily identified. It had taken her a while to get used to seeing the man in the new uniform, and she had to pause for a moment each time she looked down at her own sleeves. The stripes were there too. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "Just a little winded."

"You sure? You looked like you were nursing that wound of yours again. If there's something wrong I would advise checking yourself in with the doctor."

"No, yeah. I'm sure." Taking her hand off of her stomach, Freesia brushed a loose lock of hair out of her eyes. "I'll have Fina check it out when we get back. Not much to do about it here." Though the wound ached, there really wasn't much she could do about it. Working probably wasn't the best thing for it, but it was still healing. She was young. Some people weren't as lucky. "What about you? You doin' alright?"

Wavy shrugged. "As far as alright goes. My hip's a bit stiff, but all said I'm holding together."

Freesia had to give him credit. After being shot in the hip he'd still made it back on his feet before she did. His body was older, but he had the determination to go with it. Supposedly he'd been a teacher before the war. There might be something he could teach even here as well. "Good. Hey, our shifts almost up, right? You know how long we've got?"

"Don't have a watch, but…" Turning west, Wavy shielded his eyes. "The last few days the sun has been at around this point when they've called us off. It should be any minute now."

"Awesome."

"Indeed. We've been out here a week, too. This is our last day in rotation."

"Yeah…" One week of hard labor, two weeks back in the prison camp resting. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. As tired as she was, Freesia almost hated to leave the labor behind and move back to the prison camp. There were no walls when working the labor. "Hey," she said changing the subject, "did you see where Blondie went?"

"Last I saw Fina was up front working machinery with some of the Federation men. I'm sure we'll be able find her when they pull us out."

Freesia looked up the road. Ahead she could see a group of prisoners clearing a path through the ground ahead so construction could move forward. All told, the prairie didn't look much different than the prairies back in Gallia. Wide and open. A few shrubs and trees here or there, with grass and flowers covering the ground as far as the eye could see. The only difference was that this prairie was in the Empire. Somehow just knowing that fact made the land look completely different. "Yeah, alright. Not like they'll let us drop our work here and go find her anyway. She'll be fine. Those Federation guys aren't all bad."

"I'm not worried. She's not Gallian herself. Somehow she seems to get along well with foreigners."

Freesia laughed. "I don't think it's the fact that she's foreign that they're getting along with."

"Well," Wavy said clearing his throat. "I'm not worried about her in that regard."

"Don't let your guard down, it's always the one you're never going to…" A shrill whistle cut her off. Turning, the pair looked towards the noise. A convoy of trucks had come to drop off the next batch of workers and take the current group back to the prison camp for two weeks of light work and rest. And walls. "That's us."

"That it is." Reaching out his hand, Wavy grabbed Freesia's shovel. "Shall we?"

"Always a gentleman. It's a shame you were born 16 years too soon."

"No," he said while stroking the ring on his finger. "It isn't."

"Fair enough." Stepping away from the pile of gravel, Freesia and Wavy fell into line with the other prisoners and made their way down the road to where they would be loaded into the trucks. The road itself mocked her with every step she took. She'd fought the Imperials back in Gallia to help defend her homeland. Now she was building a highway for them that would ensure a constant supply line to move troops and equipment across. She wasn't sure if the road led into Gallia or the Federation, but that hardly mattered. Freesia was still building infrastructure for the enemy. The irony stung more than her wound ever had.

The line of prisoners stopped as they neared the front. Everyone had to pass through a checkpoint before they could be loaded onto the trucks. Off the side of the road, the line moved through a passage flanked on either side by a pair of half-tracks. An Imperial gunner manned the heavy weapon on the top of each. If anyone tried to make a break for it, the machineguns would cut them in two. Between the vehicles, Imperial soldiers watched the prisoners go past, making sure none of them tried to smuggle any weapons or tools back to camp with them. Off the front lines, the Imperials weren't wearing their usual battle armor. Instead, they wore BDUs that weren't too dissimilar from the Gallian's own. The only major difference was that their uniforms were brown instead of blue. It took a while to get used to the Imperials without the armor. They used to be helmets – masks to shoot at. Now they were people to shoot at. At least they would be if she had a gun.

Weaponless, she marched forward in line without trouble. Reaching the half-tracks, Wavy dropped the shovels on a pile of equipment and carried on. The prisoners in front of them stepped past the Imperial's and moved on to the trucks. As Wavy began to walk past, one of the soldiers put his hand on his shoulder and pushed him back. "Woah, hold up there," the soldier said. "Where do you think you're going in such a rush?"

Fixing his glasses, Wavy looked the man in the eyes. "As standard procedure states, I am moving though the checkpoint and proceeding to the loading station, where I will be loaded onto the trucks and transported back to the prison camp."

"Standard procedure? I know the Goddamn procedure. You think I'm stupid?"

"No, Sir. That was not my implication."

"It better not've been. If you ask me, though, we're sending you back to the wrong camp."

That was it. "Hey, asshole," Freesia said stepping forward. "We're just trying to–"

"Hey!" The Imperial's gun was in her face before she could finish the sentence. Speechless, she raised her hands and stepped back. "You keep your distance and stay in line if we don't pull you out. Both of you, up against the vehicles."

Freesia looked up at Wavy. The scowl on his face told her he wasn't happy. She'd been impulsive, and he'd almost definitely give her another lecture about it later. For now there wasn't much she could do but look cute and try to talk their way out of this. "Hey buddy," she said with a wink and a smile. "I'm really sorry about that. We're just… tired, ya' know? Long day for everyone. How about you let us through and we'll all relax. You boys understand, right? I hear ya'll can be pretty cool guys every once in a while."

When she stopped speaking, the two guards looked at each other and smiled. Before she could congratulate herself, the one who had his weapon trained on Freesia turned back and waved the barrel of his gun towards one of the half-tracks. "I said up against the vehicle. Come on." Groaning, Freesia stepped next to the half-track. Shoulder to shoulder with Wavy, she placed her fingertips on the vehicle's steel siding. "There we go," the soldier said. "Palms flat."

After a moment of waiting, a new voice sounded off behind her. "What do you guys got for me?"

"Just some prisoners causing trouble. Caught them coming through the checkpoint."

"Any idea who they are?"

"Haven't asked yet."

"Hm." Freesia could hear some footsteps walking closer from behind. A second later, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. Glancing over, she could see that the man's other hand had landed on Wavy. "You. Glasses. Name and identification number."

Wavy kept his eyes on the half-track as he spoke. "Wavy, prisoner identification number 910."

"And you?"

Freesia felt the man give her shoulder a light squeeze as he spoke. "Freesia York, prisoner identification number 780."

"Hm." The hand left her shoulder, and the footsteps receded. Behind them, the man flipped through a stack of papers on a clipboard. Stopping for a moment on one of the pages, he looked over the list before moving on to the next. Once again, he stopped on the page and glanced over the contents. "Gallians."

"You could have asked," Freesia muttered.

There was a heavy thump on her back as one of the guards nudged her with the butt of his rifle. The impact pushed her lightly forward. "Well, he didn't. Keep your mouth shut."

"You've gotta be fuc–"

"I said keep your mouth shut!" The second impact shoved her into the metal siding of the half-track. Freesia had a feeling there would be a weapon butt shaped bruise forming somewhere on her back over the next few days.

The Imperial who had been flipping through the clipboard handed it off to the man next to him and stepped back. "Search them and let them through. Report it and make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Yes, sir!"

"Carry on." As he walked away, Clipboard's footsteps faded into those of the other prisoners moving through the checkpoint.

The guards didn't follow him. Instead, they walked towards the two Gallians against the half-track. "Alright, you know the drill. Spread your legs and keep your hands on the vehicle. They don't leave the siding."

"We understand," Wavy said. He shot a sideways glare at Freesia.

"Yeah," she relented. "We understand."

"Good." Freesia felt a pair of hands grasp at her left ankle. Moving in pats, they shifted up her leg. Working up the courage, she turned her head to look behind her. The machine gunner on the half-track on the other side of the checkpoint had his weapon trained on them. She made a mental note to keep her hands planted. Looking at the line of prisoners, she caught a glimpse of Fina making her way towards them. The blonde stopped as Freesia shook her head. Nodding ever so slightly, she signaled for the other woman to continue on to the trucks. Reluctantly, she complied.

Switching over, the hands began working their way up her right leg. When they reached her upper thigh, they began to run themselves back down, smoothing out her pant legs while searching for anything underneath. They wouldn't find anything. Satisfied, they moved on to her hips. From there they went to her stomach. They paused at the wrappings around her wound. "What do you have there, Gallian?"

"Bandages," she said flatly.

"Shot?"

"A mine, actually."

"It's good," the man patting down Wavy said. "It was in her record."

Grunting, the man moved on. Up her flank. Down her arms. Across her back. Back to the lower stomach. Up to her upper stomach. Up to… "Hey watch where your hands are going there cowboy."

That stopped the hands in their tracks. "Hm, right," the guard said as he took them off and stepped back. "You're all clear."

"You too, darkie." The man patting Wavy down stepped back next to his partner. "All clear."

Freesia and Wavy still hadn't taken their hands off of the half-track in front of them. "Are we free to turn around?" Wavy asked.

"Yeah," the guard said. "You're all set."

Taking their hands off of the vehicle, the two Gallians turned around. The Imperials had lowered their weapons, and the other half-track's machine gunner had turned his weapon back onto the line of prisoners moving through the checkpoint. "We're set to load onto the trucks as well?"

"Dammit darkie, don't make me repeat myself. You're clear to go. Now get out of here. I don't want to see you like this again."

Without another word, the two stepped away from the half-track and back into line. They weren't stopped again. As they moved past the rest of the guards, Wavy looked over at Freesia. "That was reckless, York. You can't keep doing things like that."

"I'm sorry, Wavy," she said. "I just… I don't know. Stupid."

"You're smarter than that."

"I know."

"You need to use your head and not–"

"Hey Wavy," she cut in, "Can we talk about this later? We're all tired, and all I want to do is get in one of those trucks and crash."

"That…" Softening his gaze, Wavy sighed. "Actually sounds like a good idea. I'll see you back at the camp, alright?"

"Yeah," Freesia said. "See you then."

Stepping off, Wavy left to board one of the trucks on the other side of the loading area. She had a feeling that if he'd taken the same truck as she had she'd be hearing his lecture the whole way back. It would be best for them to take separate rides this time around. Finding a vehicle of her own, she stopped herself before climbing into the truck's bed and took a last glimpse of the prairie around her. Free, open space as far as the eye could see. In a sad way, it was almost beautiful. There were no discernible landmarks in the distance. Her entire view was filled by the flat land and the vast expanse of the sky. And no walls. Turning back, Freesia's smile faded as she loaded herself into the back of the truck and let the heavy canvass flap swing shut behind her.