Skin Trade Read online

  “Yeah, Samantha!” George shouted.

  “Samantha!” Boris repeated.

  The three boys started chanting the name over and over, trying to get everyone else to join them, and it took everything I had not to express my relief aloud. They were teasing me about being a girl, and that was that. Just teasing. It was clear they didn’t know the truth. Still, the fact that they were only teasing didn’t get them off the hook. I would show them what kind of backbone a girl had. I’d show it to them all up close and real personal-like.

  I folded the sleeves of my nightshirt up to my elbows. “You shouldn’t tease people. It’s not nice.”

  “I’ll do whatever I damned well please,” Tom said.

  “Then you’re asking for trouble,” I said.

  “From who?” Tom asked. “You and that mouse in your bloomers? Because I know you don’t have the balls to—whoa!”

  I didn’t give him time to finish before I threw myself at him, knocking us both to the ground. There we tussled a few moments, to the tune of the onlookers hooting and hollering, before Tom’s henchmen (henchboys, really) at last comprehended what was going on and rushed in to help their fearless leader. Before the other boys pulled me off, I landed several well-placed blows, scratching and punching and bruising Tom’s pretty face.

  Boris twisted my arms behind me, holding on to me with little effort. I didn’t care what happened now; I had gotten my licks in and felt much better about the whole thing. (The ability to defend myself was the sole thing I came away from my past life with that I didn’t regret.) Tom scrambled to his feet with a little help from George, then rubbed at his bleeding and swelling nose as he eyed me. That look transmitted a clear message; by drawing first blood, I had gone too far. There would be hell to pay now. I snapped upright, straightening my spine and trying to stand as tall as I could, readying myself for anything these idiots could throw at me.

  “Let’s see what you’re trying so hard to hide,” Tom said. With another sneer, he nodded to George. “Strip him.”

  Anything, except for that.

  I squirmed against Boris. “No! Leave me alone.”

  “Do it,” Tom commanded.

  George winced at the command. “Do I gotta?”

  Tom rolled his eyes heavenward, searching for help where there wasn’t any coming. “For Pete’s sake, I’ll do it.” He smeared his bloody hand across his shirt and took a few steps toward me, ready to expose me and my secret to the whole workhouse. A secret they didn’t even know was real.

  “Don’t strip him on my account,” Pete said.

  Wide eyed and terror filled, I almost swooned at the sight of the big lug moving in behind the two smaller boys.

  “You stay out of this,” Tom said.

  “Yeah,” George said. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “Sure it does,” Pete said. “Sam here is my pal. You insult him, you insult me.” Pete cracked his knuckles, one by one.

  Boris’s grip loosened with each intimidating pop.

  “Now,” Pete said. “Who here thinks I’m a girl? Or do you perverts wanna strip me too and find out?”

  “N-n-no,” George said. “I don’t think you’re a girl.”

  “Shut up!” Tom snapped at his minion. He turned his anger back to Pete, pointing a trembling finger up into the bigger boy’s face. “You think just because you’re big and stupid you can talk to me like that? Do you know who my grandfather is? Do you?”

  “Sure I do,” Pete said. “Your grandpa is either a rev or rev chow.”

  Everyone who was anyone knew that Tom Ramsey’s grandfather used to be a pretty powerful politician in California until the Great Revenant Uprising of ’70 wiped out most of the western territories. Of course, what Pete said was also true. As it had been over a decade since the infection arrived, Tom’s granddad was now dead, or perhaps undead, just like everyone else who lived in that once-upon-a-time land that used to be the western frontier.

  They said death was the great equalizer, and the undead even more so, which explained why Tom was in a border-zone workhouse eking out a meager existence, instead of living high on the hog as a grandson of a fancy-pants politician.

  Tom screamed blue murder at Pete’s declaration and launched himself onto the lad. Once again, the crowd shouted and hollered as a pair tussled on the trail between the trees. They dealt equal blows at first until Pete quickly gained the upper hand, putting his superior weight and skills to good use. Before long, Pete had the smaller lad’s head trapped in the crook of his elbow so tightly that Tom’s eyes bulged from their sockets, threatening very real damage. Before I could call Pete off of the boy, the voice of Mr. Blevins cut into the fighting ring.

  “What is going on here?” he shouted.

  The crowd fell quiet as the man pushed past us and into the fray. Using his cane, Blevins separated the brawling boys, clouting each one against the shoulder for good measure. Tom and Pete snarled at one another as they rubbed at the welts surely left behind by Master Blevins’s cane.

  “I demand an explanation,” Blevins said. “Here I thought we were under attack from the undead, only to find you two going at it like savages. What do you think you’re doing?”

  “He started it!” Tom yelled.

  “Did not!” Pete yelled. “Tom was-”

  “Quiet!” Blevins bellowed over the arguing lads. “This is a workhouse, lads, not a fighting pit. I don’t care if you boys want to rip out each other’s entrails and feed them to the accursed revenants, you will not do so on my watch. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Master Blevins,” the pair said together.

  “Now. Perhaps we can be civilized for once.” He raised his hand and motioned for me to come to him. “You, Samuel. I can see you’ve been in the battle as well. Maybe you can tell me what happened.”

  “Tom came at Pete,” I said. “So he defended himself.”

  “Tom? Did you attack Peter?”

  Tom nodded. “He said my grandpa was a revenant.”

  “Peter!” Blevins gasped as he reeled in delicate disgust. “Did you say that?”

  Pete didn’t answer. He just hung his head, which of course answered for him.

  “What a terrible thing to say,” Blevins said. “What would prompt you to make such a wretched observation?”

  Again, Pete didn’t say anything aloud. He did, however, shift his gaze to me, almost imperceptibly, but nonetheless, he did. And to make matters worse, Blevins saw him do it.

  “I thought as much,” Blevins said. “Coming to Samuel’s aid. Again.” He stared at the three of us (George and Boris long gone like the cowards they were) for a moment, then a wicked grin spread from ear to ear. “Yes. Yes, I believe that will do nicely. Thomas, I will escort you to Mrs. Walker. She’ll set you right.” He pushed the metal tip of his cane into my chest, then Pete’s, tagging us for further discipline. “You two. My office. Now.”

  “But we didn’t do anything,” I said.

  “No arguing. My office. At once. If you aren’t there when I return, then the next time you see me will be from the other side of the gates. Is that understood?”

  I nodded in time with Pete. The last thing I wanted was to lose my place at the workhouse after everything it took to get the job. Master Blevins made a production of ushering Tom away, parting the crowd with his cane and supporting the boy’s weight with each step. With the morning show over, the other boys went back to whatever dreary routine Saturday had in store for them.

  Once we were alone again, I whispered, “Look at that. He treats Tom like he’s a martyr and not a big bully.”

  “Come on, Sam,” Pete said. “Hurry up and change so we can get to the office. I don’t want any more trouble today.”

  “Pete, you didn’t have to get yourself into this. I mean, thanks, but I could’ve gotten by on my own.”

  “Well, they was threatening you and all. I figured I best step in, you know. If I can’t help my bunkmate, who can I help?”

  “Your
help was much appreciated. I’m just sorry I got you in trouble.”

  Peter shrugged. “Tom had it coming. I get tired of his mouth.”

  “That makes two of us. Let me change, and we will see how many extra chores Blevins is gonna dump on us.”

  “Let’s hope it’s just extra chores. Something tells me he’s awful sore this time. More sore than just an extra hour of mopping up is gonna fix.”

  I groaned. Blevins wasn’t just more mad than usual, he was also much more pleased. That last grin he flashed the pair of us all but announced that our fate would be dreadful. I tried to imagine what the man had planned, but couldn’t fathom what that smile meant.

  For smiles, in my experience, were often much more dangerous than frowns.

  ****

  return to table of contents

  ****

  Chapter Two

  I changed as quickly as I could before we rushed off to the head office. Once we reached the administrative building, we slowed down. It wasn’t often we got a chance to see the finery of the main hall, the lush carpets and fancy furniture and delicate stained-glass windows. Pete was all oohs and aahs, but I ground my teeth at the excess. Luxury greeted the visitors (government officials and the likes) while the boys who worked the mills and farms lived in squalor behind these flashy scenes.

  Speaking of visitors, as Pete and I approached the head office, we passed a man seated in the waiting area just outside Blevins’s door. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Well built and handsome, even at a distance, he was dressed in all white—suit, tie, vest and shoes—with not a speck of dirt or dust upon him. The man appeared relaxed but remained upright, not slouched or hunched, with a clean white hat resting across his knees. As we walked by, he tipped his head in greeting to us, all the while pulling at the corner of his mustache.

  Leaving the stranger in the waiting area, Pete and I slipped inside the office and each took a chair opposite Blevins’s desk. A monstrous grandfather clock ticked away in the corner of the room, punctuating each passing second we awaited our judgment.

  “Who do you think that man was?” I asked.

  “Dunno,” Pete said.

  “He looks rich. All that white. And so clean. Means he doesn’t work for a living.”

  “Maybe it’s just his Sunday best?”

  “Why would he wear his Sunday best on a Saturday?”

  Pete smiled and shrugged, clearly unperturbed by the presence of the strange man.

  I, however, burned with curiosity. “I wonder where he comes from. What is he doing in the border zone? Rich men don’t tromp around places like this.”

  “Maybe he ain’t all that rich.”

  “Oh, no. I’ve seen that look before. He oozes wealth.”

  “Where you seen that kind of man before?”

  “Never you mind,” I snapped. Pete may have qualified as my closest friend, but there was no need for him to know everything. “I’ll bet he needs someone to work for him. That must be it. He’s probably here looking to hire the house.”

  “That’s good, then. What you reckon he’ll hire us for?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe some kind of construction. Maybe another farm. God, I hope it’s not more plowing. My arms are killing me.”

  Our conversation was interrupted by heavy footfalls of approach. Pete looked to me with a frown. I tipped my head to one side, a silent apology for getting him mixed up in so much trouble. Again.

  Blevins stormed into the room and slammed the door behind him, proving his trip to the workhouse medic had not cleared his temper. He tossed his cane across his desk, plopped onto his chair and crossed his arms as he sat back and stared hard at the pair of us. For what seemed an eternity, he stared. Saying nothing. Doing nothing. Just looking at us with a scowl that could’ve raised the dead all on its own.

  At length, he clasped his hands together over his desk and leaned forward to address Pete first. “Peter, you used to be such a good boy. Quiet and respectable. A bit odiferous, but nonetheless decent. I used to like you.” Blevins turned his head to me, his cruel sneer and growl growing deeper with every word. “But ever since Samuel here joined us, you both have been nothing but trouble for me. Constantly getting into fights. Putting on airs. Pulling Samuel’s weight with the work.”

  “What?” I cried, recoiling in horror at the accusation.

  Blevins slammed the desk with his open palms. “Don’t talk to me like that, Sammy boy! I’ve heard the stories of how you can barely manage your own chores, and you’ve got Peter taking up your slack.”

  I looked to Pete, who kept his eyes on the floor, neither denying nor confirming the reports. I glanced back to the headmaster and asked, “Who said that about me?”

  Blevins’s sneer turned smirkward. “Thomas Ramsey informed me of all your ills. Of how you think yourself too fine a lad to dress with the other boys. How you’ve got Peter here jumping through hoops like he’s your personal valet. How you’ll put your work off on anyone you can trick into taking it on. And, worse to think, all of this was happening right under my nose, making a mockery of me and my workhouse. Well, I’m sick of it, laddie. Sick to death of it. Today I say, no more.”

  I ground my fist into the opposite palm at the name of my accuser. Tom thought he got a beating today? Wait until I got out of here. He wouldn’t sit for a week when I was done whooping his rump.

  “When I took this position,” Blevins said, “I made a solemn oath to the American people that I would do my best to restore civilization to this lost land of ours. To help reclaim our once-great nation by giving her room to spread her wings and soar. Here in the borderlands, we provide those back home hope and faith that this land of ours can be reclaimed. Can be made safe to raise families. Can be prosperous once more. And I have no time for those who fail to understand the importance of this, or those who disagree.”

  I neither failed to understand nor disagreed. I was ambivalent to the whole notion. The borderlands provided me a good hiding spot and nothing more. I kept this to myself, however, unwilling to start a debate with the man who fed and clothed me. It took a few moments for me to realize Master Blevins had returned to that same grin he wore earlier.

  The one that spelled trouble.

  Blevins sat back, relaxing as he smiled that eerie grin. “I have a proposition for you, Samuel Martin. A simple, one-time-only offer. Take it or leave it. Do or die, as they say.” He followed this with an equally eerie chuckle.

  The sound of his laughter was unsettling. I wasn’t sure where this was headed, but was sure I didn’t like it. “What kind of offer?”

  “I’ve had a request put to me earlier this morning. A request for a pair of apprentices.”

  I gasped and glanced to Pete, who was now watching with excited interest.

  “As you both are well aware,” Blevins continued, “a chance to learn a trade is your only way out of this kind of life. I mean, let’s face facts, lads: You’re both growing boys, and this workhouse can only employ you for so long. Another few years or so? When you turn eighteen, you become adults, and it will be on to the adult system. If you thought the work here was hard, then it gives me great pleasure to inform you that you are sadly mistaken.” Blevins let that sink in for a moment before he clucked his tongue and added, “Of course, accepting such a position means leaving this place for good and never returning. For if you fail in this, you fail me and are not welcome back. Not to here or any workhouse in the whole of the borderlands. Understand?”

  “No, I don’t understand,” I said. “You’re offering us the positions?”

  Blevins nodded.

  “Why?” I asked, smelling something far fouler than Pete’s morning breath.

  “Because I don’t like you,” Blevins said. “And you don’t like me. Or my workhouse. I see a chance to make us both happy. You get out of here, and I get my peace and quiet.” He took another moment to weigh my silence. “Don’t be a fool, young Samuel. This is a valuable opportunity for the both of you.”
r />   “If it’s so valuable, then why not offer it to one of your lapdogs?”

  The effort it took for Master Blevins to control his rage at that comment was visible, which left me to worry all the more about the real reason for his offer.

  “I’m offering it to you because the work is dangerous,” he said through clenched teeth. “The man is a trapper. I would hate to see one of my best boys die in the maws of some awful beast.”

  “I see,” I said. “You don’t mind seeing the pair of us get eaten by some wild thing. Or worse, a revenant. That it?”

  Blevins lifted his shoulders, accepting my assumption without argument.

  “I’ll do it,” Pete said, sort of all at once.

  “Pete,” I whispered. “You don’t even know what we’ll be doing.”

  “He said trapping.”

  “Yes, but we don’t know where or what kind of animals. This man could put us to work in the hot spots. This doesn’t sound right.”

  “I think it sounds wonderful.”

  “But, Pete-”

  “My dad was a trapper, Sam. I can do this. I can be just like him.” Peter took on a look so serene, so peaceful, it almost broke my heart to talk him out of it.

  So I didn’t.

  Against my better judgment, I agreed as well.

  “Excellent!” Blevins said. He rose from his seat and ushered us to the door. As we entered the hallway, he pushed us across the waiting area. “Mr. Boudreaux! I’ve found just the lads you’re looking for.”

  At his words, the stranger in white stood to peer down at us.

  “Mes amis,” he said in a foreign accent thick as honey and dripping with venom.

  “Mr. Boudreaux, this is Samuel Martin and Peter Harris, your new apprentices. They only need to pack their meager belongings and they will be more than ready to join you.”

  “This is good,” Mr. Boudreaux said. “For my company leaves on the morrow. There is much to learn, much to discuss before we leave.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  Mr. Boudreaux stared at me in silence for a brief moment. “Curious, are we?” He looked up to Blevins and added, “I can see why you offer him to me. Oui?”