Work

Work

“Single file! I said single file… and walk!” Joe yelled to the five men he was escorting through the woods. The prisoners had to earn work duty here. The work was easy, picking strawberries, and was a coveted reward even though it was work.

Joe was new, he had only escorted prisoners to the fields once before. The prisoners were not hard core, no killers or terrorists, but they could be tough. What Joe really was, unbeknownst to them, was lost.

“Joe” one of the men called, “there’s a fork here, left or right?”

Joe looked ahead, neither path looked familiar. Suddenly one of the guys, Roger, yelled, “I smell them!!! I smell strawberries!” Everyone started sniffing and smiling, whooping it up. Joe tried to calm them, but being excited himself at not being lost anymore he began jumping and whooping too.

“Ah, Joe?” Roger said quietly, right into his ear. “You dropped your gun…”

Joe looked down in terror, nobody but Roger had noticed. Roger immediately distracted all attention in the other direction with a “Look, isn’t that the clearing?” and pointing, everyone looked, Joe stooped and picked up his gun.

Roger looked back at Joe, all put together again, and winked. “Let’s go,” he said to the group leading them along the left fork, to the fields, Roger came up behind.

Later, Joe went over to Roger to thank him. “That could have gone badly, I owe you.” he said.

Roger looked at him and laughed, “I used to spend my whole day in an office, now I spend it picking strawberries in the warm sun, chatting with friends without a care in the world. If something had gone wrong just then, we would all be in solitary for a month. You don’t owe me a dang thing.”