8/3/2019 Excerpt From Life and Undeath on the Chain Gang

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Life and Undeath on the Chain Gang

Morty was up to something. Or, at least, he was plotting something. Zeke could tell by

the conniving look in his cellmates eyes, as they sat in the shade of the trees, soothing their

parched throats with lukewarm water and placating their starving bodies with the crust of bread

the warden passed off as food.

It wasnt like they didnt have all day to think, while lost in the drudgery of hard manual

labour. Building the Western North Carolina Railroad took a lot out of a man. But if Monty was

anything like Zeke, he spent his whole time while working worrying about ending up on Chain

Two. That was the last thing Zeke wanted happening to him, and it was a constant and growing

concern. The closer they got to the end of the job, the less the camp warden and his pack of

hounds cared what happened to the men on Chain One. As long as the work got done, it didnt

matter to them if Zeke and Morty were on Chain One or on Two. In fact, the only reason why

the two men or any of their cohorts were still on Chain One was because they worked hard and

fast, they didnt voice their complaints and they had a strong will to live.

Not that there wasnt plenty to complain about. The conditions that they were working in

were atrocious and the warden took advantage of the fact that society considered the prisoners

less than human and didnt recognize their rights. There was low tolerance for law-breakers in

the Land o the Sky. The weather of a North Carolina summer, on many days, could be

scorching and Zeke had watched other men drop like flies from fatigue, dehydration and heat

exhaustion. In fact, the mortality rate on Chain One was closing in on fifty percent. Zeke had

watched Chain One shrink from sixty men to just over forty, after the initial incident that started

Second Chain in the first place. Day by day, Chain Two continued to expand.

It was no skin off of the wardens back if anyone died while working. It meant one less

mouth to feed and one less person he would have to shelter while waiting for a new inmate to fill

that bunk. It also didnt leave him short-handed. He would simply have his hounds drag the

body over to Chain Two and set the prisoner to work there, once Maitresse had prepped them in

her way. She was the first corpse whisperer that Zeke had ever encountered, and he was hoping

that she would be the last.

Zeke inched his way over to Morty, as close as his restraints would allow, brushing the

sweat from his brow. Even in the shade, it was hellishly hot.

Whats on yer mind? he drawled. If Morty was plotting something, Zeke wanted in on

it.

The shackle and chain continued to rattle slightly as Zeke strained against them. He

glanced down at the spot where the metal cuff left chafe marks on the dark skin of his leg. He

hoped he wouldnt end up with shackle poisoning, a sometimes lethal infection some of the

convicts contracted because of the chafe.