Chapter 4

I got me an awful need to shoot someone. Few folk in particular 're owed the pleasure of me puttin' one of Vera's bullets inta their ruttin' brainpans, but failin' that I'd settle fer anyone who deserved it. Ain't much chance o' that though out here in the black, so instead I'm sat in my bunk imaginin' the basketball I'm bouncing' offa the wall's some slaver's head.

There's a knock on my door but I wanna be left alone so I throw the basketball even harder so that it thuds inta the metal wall hopin' whoever is outside takes the hint. 'Stead they takes it as a sure sign I'm in an' open the door. Can't say I'm surprised when I sees it's the preacher climbin' down inta my room. Jus' so as he knows how I feel about his intrusion I throw the ball ag'in, not so as t' hit him, jus' t' make him think I will.

He don't even flinch though, jus' holds up his hands like he's surrenderin'. "Hey, I just wanted to see if you wanted to talk."

"Do I wanna share an' care do you mean? Come on Shepherd, you know I ain't one fer all that." Talkin' don't help none, actin' does, only thing gonna help me is bashin' in a few heads. "Few words o' wisdom from the Lord ain't gonna change nuthin'."

Book smiles like he knows mor'an I do. Maybe he does but I reckons I got a pretty good handle on the 'shit happens' way o' life.

"Well I thought you might like something to eat." These bunks aren't meant fer carryin' stuff in an' outta so he has t' climb up an' down a few times t' bring down a plate o' protein an' my blue mug o' coffee. I ain't hungry an' protein mush is hardly appetisin' but the smell o' the coffee, hot, black an' sugary jus' the way I like it, is welcome. I'm hopin' that's it an' now the preacher'll leave me alone. No such luck.

"This must be very hard for you." He says like he knows 'zactly what I'm thinkin', if he did know what I was thinkin' he would get his ass back up t' the others an' find someone who wants his council.

"Only thing I'm finding' hard is resistin' the urge t' hit you in the head with this gorram ball."

"Fine, I get the picture, but don't go pretending this doesn't affect you."

"You're jus' dyin' t' see me as some kinda good guy ain't ya, well allow me t' sorely disappoint ya. I don't care, past is past, don't matter no more." If it were anyone else standin' there I woulda pelted 'em outta my room wi' my basketball by now but the preacher has always made an' effort t' know me, 'sides, though I figure I'm already goin' t' hell, things I done, I might get there a lot quicker if I go beatin' on a man o' God.

"I fail to believe that you're as inhuman as you'd like to be. Any you can't deny you weren't upset that they all thought you were a trader."

"Hell they got every right to. After all I nearly went an' sold the pretty-boy doctor an' his sister t' the highest bidder. So I guess I am a trader." It hadn't meanta come out that way, he's got me angry an' I gone said too much, but he don't react t' this information, like he knew it all along. It gets me t' wonderin' what Lil' River's bin sayin' an' t' who. "It's the way of the 'verse, folk don't matter, only money."

"So why not keep quiet, let the Captain deliver his cargo and walk away with the gold?" Perseverin' fella that Book, why can't he leave me the gorram hell alone.

"I said it's how it works, don't mean I gotta like it."

"Well you did a good thing, everyone's clean and has eaten and all are sleeping now, as well as they can sleep. The Captain has changed course and we're going to set them down on a place called Haven. It's not that far and it's a nice quiet place, perfect for them to start their new lives as free-folk." He finally looks like he's gettin' t' leavin'. "Well then, I'll leave you be. I'll repeat my offer though, if you ever need to talk you know where I'll be."

"Don't need t' talk, it's not like it's done me no harm. I mean, we got out, my Ma an' me an' we weren't left no quiverin' wreaks neither." Go se! I'm talkin', why when he was almost out the door? He don't hang on though, jus' gives me that smile ag'in an' leaves.

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I long since learnt t' clear out my brain, I ain't had a bad night's sleep since I were a kid. But tonight I'm tossin' an' turnin' an' dreamin' fer the first time since my age were in double numbers. Them folk is hauntin' me with their fearin' despairin' faces. Causin' me t' remember things I wished I'd forgot. Most slavin's bearable, ya work long hours an' you ain't got nuthin' but they feed ya an' most times you get a bed t' call yer own. I even met some folk preferred it t' the outside world where they'd bin struggling' t' put food on the table. Most folk, happy about it or not, took t' acceptin' it.

When I were really young they'd have me pickin' cotton or fruit an' vegetables, easy stuff a kid could do, most times wi' women-folk an' the older men. They were long days but none too tough an' then we'd go back t' our quarters an' the men'd come in from the fields an' the house worker's'd make us dinner, (my Ma were a good cook, so most times she worked in the kitchen) an' we'd all sit about our barracks an' folk'd tell stories an' play cards fer imagined coin. They weren't ever what you'd call happy but they learnt t' make the best o' circumstances. But these folk we found t'day get t' remindin' me o' the first place we got sent t' that weren't like that.

I were nine, bin a slave five years an' taken a trip in a coffin three times. I were lucky enough that I hadn't bin split from my Ma and Rosie, but we hadn't sin Pa since two years. Whole workforce h'd bin bought offa the rancher we'd worked for fer seven months, six ranch-hands, my Ma, Rosie an' me. They hadn't wanted Rosie but no one wants stuck with a five year old without it's ma so a deal got made.

We was taken outta the coffin an' inst'ntly split up, Ma an' Rosie t' the house, me wi' the ranch-hands. The fella bought us saw how strong I was gettin' an' I were t' work on the ranch this time around. We was lead inta a small brick barn at the back o' the farmhouse an' taken inside. It were small an' full o' bed wi' a big steel door that lock wi' five or six differ'nt bolts. The men already in there looked at us from their beds as we walked in, none talkin' an' they watched me in partic'lar. There were fear in their eyes, same as them we rescued t'day. The foreman leadin' us in didn't say nuthin' neither, jus' left us t' findin' our beds, an' locked the door as he left wi' big bolts that clanged shut. We stood there expectin' someone t' say somethin' but they jus' kept on starin'. Can't remember who, one o' us said "hello" an' they said nuthin' back.

Takin' a cue from them we kept quiet ourselves, washed up in the dirty sink in the corner an' fell inta our beds, an' in the mornin' we worked out why they was so quiet. We were woke about four an' hadta dress in the near dark before bein' herded by the foreman inta the room next door t' the bunkroom wi' a log bench an' table in it. Them that weren't new all walk in single file an' sit down in silence. Me an' the other guys follow on. We got bread an' water served t' us by the two women slaves who look after the ranch, one o' 'em my Ma.

"Hey Jayney, you alright?" She asked as she serves me. Soon as she did, the foreman comes an' cuffs her hard across the back o' her head.

"No talkin'!"

"Hey," I stood me up, an' turned t' face the man. He towered o'er me an' I knew as I did it, it were the dumbest thing I ever done. "Don't hit my Ma." I said tryin' t' sound bigger'an I was. B'fore I knew what was happenin' that hand was flyin' ag'in, 'cept this time it were a closed fist an' crashed straight inta my face. Ma screamed as I fell offa the bench, hittin' the table on my way t' the floor.

"Cocky little son of a whore ain't ya!" He said. I'd bin knocked to layin' flat on my back an' he placed his heavy boot down on my chest, not hard enough t' crush me but hard enough t' hurt, so as I would stay down while he gave me his talkin' t'. "I heard tell you were a strong kid, but I don't see it myself. You'd better prove me wrong boy, 'cause you don't pull ya weight an' do e'zactly as I says an' you ain't never gonna see you dear ol' ma ag'in." He increased the pressure on my chest. "You hearin' me boy?"

I gave him a shaky nod an' he released me. Ma helped me t' my feet b'fore a glare from the foreman 'ad her runnin' back inta the kitchen. It were the start o' the longest gorram three years o' my life. We worked fer as long as the sun were up, sixteen hours most o' the year, an' all in complete silence an' on all manner o' heavy tasks. The foreman continued his reign o' terror, getting' ruttin' hard on dealin' out the whip or his fists t' those caught slackin' or talkin'. There were some men there I don't think I ever heard 'em talk, they mebbe forgot how. No one can say I weren't strong, but I were still only nine an' were expected t' do the work o' a grown man. The other men hadta find ways o' makin' it look like I'd done more work than I had t' save me from more beatin's. They got beat too if they were caught doin' it. One fella got his leg broke on account o' me.

I didn't get t' speak t' my Ma ag'in fer the next three years we were there neither, though after the first week she slipped a pen an' piece o' paper inta my pocket an' from then we got t' exchanging' notes tacked t' the underside o' my plate. She'd attach then under my dinner plate an' I'd haveta slide it off an' inta my pocket. I could only read it once we were all back in the dark dorm room fer the night. I ain't never done no schoolin' in my life so the other men, them that had, would read it t' me an' then help me t' write mine own back that I'd place under the breakfast plate the next day.

At first the six ranch-hands I'd come in with would spend the evenin's like before talkin' an' jokin' an' helpin' me wi' my letters, part-times 'cause they felt sorry fer me, part-times 'cause it were rebellion against the foreman. But the harder they worked, an' the more beatin's they took, the quieter they became, till we bare said two words t' each other, an' those men I took t' me strong b'came as weak an' fearin' as those folk we busted outta their coffin t'day.

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Come mornin' I go lookin' fer coffee an' find a kitchen full o' folk. Most all the crew o' Serenity 're at the table or fussin' around in the kitchen an' a few o' the folk we rescued 're tuckin' inta a table full o' our food.

"Good mornin' Jayne." Kaylee greets me wi' more shinyness than is natural fer someone who almost gone lost their hands yesterday, but her hands is all bandaged an' so the doc is havin' t' feed her so I guess that explains sumthin'.

"Feelin' better?" I ask.

"Morphine's shiny." She states.

"Yeah, so's coffee. Is there any?"

"It's over there." She points with her whole hand an' turns her attentions back t' Simon grinnin' all over when he spills some o' the mush down her chin an' threatens t' lick it off. An she accuses me o' thinkin' wi' my downstairs brain! Inara rolls her eyes at them an'offers me the pot o' coffee. Her an' Book 're makin' protein meals meant t' taste like bacon an' eggs.

I pours myself a cup but there ain't nowhere t' sit so I stands wi' m back against the wall. Not all the folk we rescued 're up yet but those that are 're sat wolfin' down their food like they's worried it's gonna get took from them at any minute.

"This is a lotta folk." I says as more scrawny people appear. There ain't barely enough room t' stand now.

"Yeah," Mal says havin' t' give up his own seat. "We didn't have enough beds so a few people h've had ta sleep in the infirmary."

"Aww hell Mal I woulda gradly given up my bunk if I coulda shared that big ol' bed o' 'Nara's." I'm bettin' she coulda taken my mind off things last night, I mebbe even coulda taught her a thing or two, enchance her trade. My suggestion don't go down too well though, 'Nara looks disgusted at the thought an' the captain looks like he might shoot me fer suggestin' it. Guess I'm supposed t' be offended, it's a good thing I don't care.

I'm in a mood t' be windin' folk up t'day an' I was gonna say sumthin' else when Wash clatters down inta the dining room. "Err guys, I think we may have a slight problem."

Mal, Zoe, Kaylee an' me follow Wash up onta the bridge, leavin' the others t' look after our new passengers.

"What's wrong?" Simon asks as we leave.

"Aww nothin' we can't handle I'm sure." Mal says not wantin' t' scare anyone, but I ain't convinced, I can see on Wash's face we should be worryin'.

He waits fer us t' get onta the bridge b'fore telling' us the bad news. "We're in trouble. We're being hailed by a nasty looking slave trader who wants to know what we've done with his cargo."

"Those crates must have had tracking devices on them." Zoe says.

"Ya think?" It's nice t' be one step ahead o' the smart ones fer a change. "I says we let 'em board. We can take 'em and I is jus' itchin' t' shoot someone." Things 're looking up, I might even get some killin' done an' I knows that is gonna make me feel better about the whole thing, get all this pent up feelin' outta my head.

Wash frowns "I doubt it. It's a big vessel, they've probably got quite a few men on board."

"Go se!" Mal curses. "Wash do you think we can out run them?"

"Mmm. I don't know. In atmo sure, we'd be the faster ship, but out here in the black I'm not sure."

"Well lets find out shall we?"

"Sure thing Captain." He flicks a few switches an' puts on his concentratin' face.

"Kaylee do you think you could find a way o' boostin' our power?" The Capt'n asks.

"Right on it Cap'n. But…" She holds up her bandaged hands.

"Jayne go help her." I ain't needin' t' be told, this is gettin' t' be a regular occurrence.

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