“Escapees, eh?”
“Yes,” Mark said.
“Yes, boss. Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, boss.”
“What can you do? Can you fight?”
When Mark didn’t answer, the Boss pointed to a smaller man in the crowd that had gathered around. “Take him, Choam.”
The small man moved toward Mark. His foot lashed upward and hit Mark in the ribs. Then he moved closer. Mark tried to hit him, but the man dodged away and slapped Mark across the face. “Enough,” the boss said. “You can’t fight. What can you do?”
“I—”
“Yeah.” He looked backward over his shoulder to the black man. “You want him, George?”
“No.”
“Right. Art, you found him. He’s yours. I’ll take the girl.”
“But you can’t!” Mark shouted.
“No!” Juanita said.
The other men looked at the boss. They saw he was laughing. They all laughed. Art and the two others took Mark’s arms and began to drag him away. Two more led Juanita into the cave behind the boss.
“But this isn’t right!” Mark shouted.
There was more laughter. The boss stood. “Maybe I’ll give her back when I’m through. Unless Art wants her. Art?”
“I got a woman.”
“Yeah.” The boss turned toward the cave. Then he turned back to Mark and the men holding him. “Leave the kid here, Art. I’d like to talk to him. Get the girl cleaned up,” he shouted behind him. “The rest of you get out of here.”
The others left, all but the black man who stood behind the boss’s throne. The black man went a few meters away and sat under a rock ledge. It looked cool in there. He took out a pipe and began stuffing it.
“Come here, kid. What’s your name?”
“Fuller,” Mark said. “Mark Fuller.”
“Come over here. Sit down.” The boss indicated a flat rock bench just inside the cave mouth. The cave seemed to go in a long way; he could hear women talking. “Sit, I said. Tell me how you got here.” The boss’s tone was conversational, almost friendly.
“I was in a student riot.” Mark strained to hear, but there were no more sounds from inside the cave.
“Student, eh. Relax, Fuller. Nobody’s hurting your girlfriend. Your concern is touching. Don’t see much of that out here. Tell me about your riot. Where was it?”
The boss was a good listener. When Mark fell silent, the man would ask questions—probing questions, as if he were interested in Mark’s story. Sometimes he smiled.
Outside were work parties: wood details; a group incomprehensibly digging a ditch in the flinty ground out in front of the caves; women carrying water. None of them seemed interested in the boss’s conversation. Instead, they seemed almost afraid to look into the cave—all but the black man, who sat in his cool niche and never seemed to look away.
Bit by bit Mark told of his arrest and sentence, and of Ewigfeuer’s plantation. The boss nodded. “So you came looking for the Free States. And what did you expect to find?”
“Free men! Freedom, not—”
“Not despotism.” There was something like kindness in the words. The boss chuckled. “You know, Fuller, it’s remarkable how much your story is like mine. Except that I’ve always known how to fight. And how to make friends. Good friends.” He tilted his head toward the black man. “George, here, for instance. Between us there’s nothing we can’t handle. You poor fool, what the hell did you think you’d do out here? What good are you? You can’t fight, you whine about what’s right and fair, and you don’t know how to take care of yourself, and you come off into the bush to find us. You knew who we were.”
“But—”
“And now you’re all broken up about your woman. I’m not going to take anything she hasn’t got plenty of. It doesn’t get used up.” He stood and shouted to one of the men in the yard. “Send Art over.”
“So you’re going to rape Juanita.” Mark looked around for a weapon, for anything. There was a rifle near the boss’s chair. His eyes flickered toward it.
The boss laughed. “Try it. But you won’t. Aw, hell, Fuller, you’ll be all right. Maybe you’ll even learn something. Now I’ve got a date.”
“But—” If there was something I could say, Mark thought. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why not? Because I’ll lose your valuable loyalty? Get something straight, Fuller. This is it. There’s no place left to go. Live here and learn our ways, or go jump over the cliff there. Or take off into the green and see how far you get. You think you’re pretty sharp. Maybe you are. We’ll see. Maybe you’ll learn to be some use to us. Maybe. Art, take the kid into your squad and see if he can fit in.”
“Right, boss. Come on.” Art took Mark’s arm. “Look, if you’re going try something, do it and get it over with. I don’t want to watch you all the time.”
Mark turned and followed the other man. Helpless. Damn fool, and helpless. He laughed.
“Yeah?” Art said. “What’s funny?”
“The Free State. Freedom. Free men—”
“We’re free,” Art said. “More’n the losers in Whiskeytown. Maybe one day you will be. When we think we can trust you.” He pointed to the cliff edge. The sea inlet was beyond it. “Anybody we can’t trust goes over that. The fall don’t always kill ’em, but I never saw anybody make it to shore.”
* * *
Art found him a place in his cave. There were six other men and four women there. The others looked at Mark for a moment, then went back to whatever they had been doing. Mark sat staring at the cave floor and thought he heard, off toward the Boss’s cave, a man laughing and a girl crying. For the first time since he was twelve, Mark tried to pray.
Pray for what? he asked himself. He didn’t know. I hate them. All of them.
Just when, Mark Fuller, are you going to get some control over your life? But that doesn’t just happen. I have to do it for myself. Somehow.
A week went past. It was a meaningless existence. He cooked for the squad, gathered wood and washed dishes, and listened to the sounds of the other men and their women at night. They never left him alone.
The crying from the boss’s cave stopped, but he didn’t see Juanita. When he gathered wood, there were sometimes women from the boss’s area, and he overheard them talking about what a relief it was that Chambliss—that seemed to be the boss’s name—had a new playmate. They did not seem at all jealous of the new arrival.
Play along with them, Mark thought. Play along until—until what? What can I do? Escape? Get back to the plantation? How? And what happens then? But I won’t join them, I won’t become a part of this! I won’t!
After a week they took Mark on hunting parties. He was unarmed—his job was to carry the game. They had to walk several kilometers away from the caves. Chambliss didn’t permit hunting near the encampment.
Mark was paired with Art. The older man was neither friendly nor unfriendly; he treated Mark as a useful tool, someone to carry and do work.
“Is this all there is?” Mark asked. “Hunting, sitting around the camp, eating and—”
“—a little screwing,” Art said. “What the hell do you want us to do? Set up farms so the governor’ll know where we are? We’re doin’ all right. Nobody tells us what to do.”
“Except the boss.”
“Yeah. Except the boss. But nobody hassles us. We can live for ourselves. Cheer up, kid, you’ll feel better when you get your woman back. He’ll get tired of her one of these days. Or maybe we’ll get some more when we go raiding. Only thing is, you have to fight for a woman. You better do it better’n you did the other day.”
“Doesn’t she—don’t the women have anything to say about who they pair up with?” Mark asked.
“Why should they?”
* * *
On the tenth day there was an alarm. Someone thought he heard a helicopter. The boss ordered night guards.
Mark was paired with a man named Cal. They sat among the rocks at the edge of the clearing. Cal had a rifle and a knife, but Mark was unarmed. The jungle was black dark, without even stars above.
Finally the smaller man took tobacco and paper from his pocket. “Smoke?”
“Thanks, I’d like one.”
“Sure.” He rolled two cigarettes. “Maybe you’ll do, huh? Had my doubts about you when you first come. You know, it’s a wonder the boss didn’t have you tossed over the side, the way you yelled at him like that. No woman’s worth that, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“She mean much to you?” Cal asked.
“Some,” Mark swallowed hard. His mouth tasted bitter. “‘Course, they get the idea they own you, there’s not much you can do.”