Forty-nine: Scumbag CO

Without work and with the war front drawing closer, I wasn't allowed out of the Compound anymore. For days, I listened to the sound of explosions and gunfire, wondering if it would ever reach us in the Compound. If and when it did, would I survive it?

The Compound was taken over by our soldiers to be used as a base. The remaining residents who hadn't been able to leave the city were crammed into an apartment block, while those of us in my toilet block continued to be sequestered there. The soldiers took over the rest of the space. There was little freedom of movement with them around. Everything became even more regimented.

Unable to go out to buy food, what was left in the Compound shop and bakery were snapped up at high prices until there was nothing left. I hadn't been fast enough. I starved for two days until I overheard that the soldiers had rations for us too. Joining a line in the centre of the Compound, I discovered some residents had been hired to be cooks and cleaners for the army.

Being recognised as a solitary from the toilet block, I was pushed aside by other residents who wanted the opportunity to work for the army and at least earn their meals. A man pressed me against a tree with his forearm at my throat in the crowd so that I couldn't even shout for help.

I heard some people joining a laundry crew, others joining a vehicle maintenance crew. Some people were taken on as aides or office workers. Everyone was given a job.

Except for those of us in solitary.

The man let me go when most of the other residents left happily. There was only a small number left over who hadn't been able to get a job. The other solitary toilet block dwellers like me, exchanged glances. I heard one soldier soliciting with a woman quietly, promising to pay her in food if she would entertain him and his friends in bed. She wasn't the only one. There seemed to be a few other men and women who were willing to make private deals like that.

The rest of us solitaries who hadn't found a job were rounded up and lined up in front of the commanding officer's office. The other residents who hadn't been able to find work wrinkled their noses at being grouped with those of us from solitary.

"Those who don't work won't eat," declared the commanding officer, also known as the CO, in a commanding voice that made his jelly jowls wobble. I decided I didn't like the look of him. He had a vicious, condescending air about him. "The rest of you ants, will be called Workforce Gamma. You will essentially be our slaves and sent to do whatever dirty jobs we come up with. Some of you who aren't under suspicion will be quickly cleared and sent out of the city as soon as possible. The rest of you had better knuckle down and work hard. There isn't a lot of food to go around and so you'd better bloody well prove that you've earned your keep."

His eye fell on me with a nasty scowl. Somehow, I felt he had recognised me or something.

"Report to the square at 0700 hours every morning. Anyone who is late, will lose a portion of their day's rations. You'll all start work tomorrow."

"What about today's food?" one brave soul asked.

"You should still have enough to last one more day," the commanding officer sniffed.

"What if we don't?"

"Then suck it up and make sure you work hard tomorrow, sonny boy," the fat man rolled his little eyes and strode into his office.

"Scumbag," someone muttered and a wave of murmured agreement went through the crowd. "He already knows we have no more food left for today."

"Scumbag," people spat at the steps of the officer's office and left.

I agreed with them. I had a feeling that life wasn't going to be easy with the scumbag officer in charge. I'd already been starving for two days. What was one more day? The least I could do was become hypoglycemic and faint. At least I still had water.

A soldier emerged from the office and rubbed his long, wobbly nose, while seeming to search for someone while everyone was leaving.

"You," he pointed at me before I could leave. "You, woman, come in. The CO wants to see you."

"Me?" I pointed at myself and walked over with hesitance.

"Yes, you," the wobbly nosed soldier held the door open and ushered me in to stand in front of the commanding officer's desk. "Stand there for a moment."

"You can go now," the fat officer waved the soldier away and ignored my presence while he read documents and wrote or signed things on them.