Chapter 15
Parson Farm
Grindstone Island
St. Laurence River
January 2011
As Spencer finished his supper Foreman sat back and looked around the room, opening his 'office' to the other men. One joined them, called Smitty, who was the second-in-command around here. Some others came around, mostly questions about work that needed to be done. At one point Spencer helped with an engineering problem that had clearly been an issue for a while. After Foreman and Smitty nodded. "That's your chair now." Foreman said. "It's good to have an educated man around."
Spencer blinked. "Thank you." It was a gesture of respect, and not one he had expected.
Just then a gonging sound came from behind the wall. The men started getting up, taking plates to the hole, gathering their meager belongings. "They're closing up the kitchen for the night." Foreman said.
Spencer followed along, depositing his dishes and gathering his coat. The walkways were covered against the snow, but it was still freezing out. Foreman led him to a storeroom where he was issued an armful of clothing and other items, before he was led to a bunkhouse. But before they went in Foreman stopped him. "Did Parson say anything about being assigned?"
"He's going to be the new schoolmaster. Don't assign him yet, I have a plan for that." Spencer recited. "Eidetic memory. I remember everything I hear and read. Perfectly."
"Perfectly?" Foreman asked.
"Accepted as fact by the US court system."
"Damn."
"Does that mean something other than assigned to a job, or a place to sleep or..."
"It does. But we don't talk about it. Ever. To anyone. You got any questions you ask me, away from the others, got it?" Spencer nodded so Foreman went on. "You let the men who are assigned go first in the washroom. When they go we take a turn." He led Spencer in to a neat but crowded bunk house and pointed him to the bottom bunk at the far end, by the door to the remarkably clean toilet room. "Teacher's bunk." He said. "That man had to go more than anyone I ever met. Got up three times a night."
"It's a symptom of Diabetes." Spencer replied. Foreman showed him where to put his clothes, his towels and soap, the knapsack they'd given him, the hooks for his coats, and so on.
"Tomorrow I'll get you some snowshoes." Foreman said.
Spencer blinked at him. "Umm..."
"What?"
"I'm from Las Vegas."
Foreman looked at him a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Hope you learn quick, Teacher."
The room sort of settled. People started getting ready for bed, cleaning and straightening and mending things for the next work day. As Foreman checked in with the men Smitty explained to him how meals worked, and the laundry, and getting what you needed and such. Spencer noted the men who went in to the wash room, who came out looking damp around the edges, but had re-dressed. There was an honest-to-god piano in the corner, which turned out to be somewhat out of tune when one of the men sat at it. But he played and sang a song anyway, something Spencer had never heard before, soft and lulling and slightly melancholy.
Then JD came to the door. "Okay, line it up." He started calling out numbers. The piano player kept going as the men called lined up, their faces so lively a little while ago gone to blank masks. Spencer watched, curious, as they followed JD out. He turned to Foreman with a question on his face.
"You don't need to know right now." Foreman said. "Washroom's free. Get ready for bed."
So those men were assigned. Interesting. They were all young and strong, he noted, otherwise they seemed to have nothing in common. As they moved out of earshot the piano player finished his song, and left the instrument.
Spencer followed Smitty into the washroom. It wasn't much, the water came from hoses and wasn't what you would call warm. But there was a bit of privacy, he was able to clean up, and change into clean, warm things and his bed was neat and while not comfortable it would do. There was no good place for his glasses though. He ended up tucking them behind his pillow.
Pretty soon all the candles were put out, except for the one in the toilet room and the one by the door where Foreman was waiting. After a time the men who had gone came back. Foreman checked in with all of them as they went. Most seemed quiet, but one pushed past everyone and ran for the toilet room. Smitty got out of bed and followed him, and Spencer heard the sound of retching. And Foreman seemed to be talking to one in the corner that was crying. Whatever it was, they helped the younger men through it.
What did they do to them? Spencer wondered. What are they going to do to me?
And then they put out the lights.