Chapter 4

Randy walked into the mill and headed straight to his department. Randy worked on the top floor of the mill in what looked like it had once been an attic. There were shelves on the far left of the room lined with boxes of what was considered less than perfect products. They made towels and Randy worked in the part of the mills responsible for inspecting and shipping. When he entered the departments there were rows of machines that cut the wash clothes and towels and sewed the seams around them. On the other side was rows of tables and a conveyor belt where women stood and checked them for imperfections before stacking them according to how they were to be packed, then sending them to the end of the room where two more women sealed them in plastic and sent them on another belt that would drop them in the room Randy worked in where a two men would pack them in boxes. Then they were sent on a belt that half way wrapped the area so Randy could place them under a bar where a plastic strap would be placed on them to keep the boxes from opening. Randy would use the computer to print out a label and then send them down a shoot to be loaded on trucks. He found it a boring job but it was better than sitting around a cell all day and he was allowed to listen to the radio which he was always in control of because no one was brave enough to challenge his choice.

"Send her upstairs." Randy heard as he passed and made his way up the ramp to his area. He didn't look but he knew they were running out of places to put the women who only worked in two departments in the mill. Inspection or spinning, which consisted of twenty tall machines that took raw barrels of cotton and spun them into thin, strong strings on a roll to be sent to the weaving machines and one woman, ran five machines at a time.

Randy had a belt full of boxes to strap when arrived. The guy on the night shift rarely finished all his work. So he made his way and began to close the boxes and strap them shut. A few minutes later, the brunette he had seen the night before in the court yard was led up.

"Here you go." The officer seemed to want to terrorize the woman. "This is the perfect place for someone like you." Randy wondered what the woman could have done wrong. She didn't look the type to have committed a crime.

Taylor stared at the job in front of her. It looked easy enough. She just had to place bags of towels or washcloths in bags, keeping track of how many of each style went in each box and then place them on the belt to be sealed and sent to shipping. It wasn't a hard job, until she glanced at the man who sealed the boxes.

"Hey Brandon." He called to the short, stocky man who was packing the boxes. "You're being reassigned. I don't think we need more than one to pack boxes." The officer smirked and returned his attention to Taylor and whispered. "You will work alone with Randy." He laughed. "You know why he's here? He's here for a lot of awful things, but the fact that he has raped, is what I would worry about if I were you." Taylor began to shake as The Viper's eyes looked her way. "That's right. And those big doors stay closed and there are lots of hiding places up here."

Taylor felt like crying. She knew the officer was setting her up. He was her step father's brother and nothing made him happier than having a chance to punish taking his older brother's life.

"Viper! Hello!" Randy turned his ice blue eyes to the man. "You're training Taylor, on both jobs. You're job responsibilities have just been added to." Taylor hugged herself as the large garage like door was slid closed to the section and Randy slowly walked toward her. His chin tilted up and she had to stare up at him. His every move was intimidating. He looked her up and down, tilted his head and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Taylor had no idea what was going through his mind.

"You don't look like a killer." He spoke in a deep growl then touched her arm. He motioned for her to come with him and she hesitated before she did, knowing he would do more damage to her if she tried to fight him. There was nowhere for her to go and no one to help her. He led her over to a desk with a computer and hit the mouse to turn off the screen saver. "Every style is listed here." He told her. "It will tell you what size box it goes in and how many to put in each box. Anything that is a second will have a big X on the tag inside the box. Special orders are here. They will have a mix of styles. Bring those to me; do not put them on the belt. Understand?"

"Yes." She spoke meekly and watched as he went to the revolving metal bin that the packs of towels dropped into and began to pack them according to styles that were written on the paper tag inside." Taylor walked over and began to pack the boxes, walking back to the computer to look up any new style to see how many to put in the boxes before picking them up and putting them on the belt. When the belt was full of boxes, Randy would walk off and start closing and strapping them. Taylor felt sick wondering when or where Randy would decide he wanted her. It was a fear she knew she would have to live with every day.


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