Linhart's Beautiful Beast by Mel Bossa

Author:Mel Bossa [Bossa, Mel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Polar nights. Never ending blue darkness.

Joe could never explain these days to his mother, or anyone who’d never experienced them. Where ever he went from here, if he ever did leave this place, Joe would never forget these days of nights. To be under a sun that refuses to warm you.

His fingers were numb from the cold, but Joe swung the ax again and again, finally splicing the log in two. At a distance, he heard a tree crash, but couldn’t be bothered to look up to see where it would land. This morning, their work group had been welcomed by a crowd of angry Natives who were here to protest Murphy’s plant. The men were holding up large signs, and the words on them seemed to be written in blood.

They hate us, Joe thought. This place was cursed―the forest, soil, the inmates―they were all cursed.

Joe’s bones ached from the cold and the constant lifting and swinging of his arms, but yet, he was still here. Still alive. It had been three days since Vascali’s arrest, and each day had been its own special hell. Everywhere Joe looked, he saw a new threat. The guards were constantly taunting Dubois. They tripped him when he walked down the hall. Slapped the back of his head while he ate. Whispered lewd words into his ear. But this was only the beginning. They were playing with him, delaying their pleasure. Yes, preparing themselves for the real feast―the one they’d settle down to when Williams, Lebeau, and Johnson returned in four days.

But the man they were after, was the man Joe was prepared to kill or die for.

Every morning, Joe woke and made peace with God. He was ready for anything.

Joe paused, taking a short break, scanning the surroundings for Dubois’s face. They never allowed Dubois out of his sight. The guards enjoyed his witnessing of Dubois’s torment. Joe immediately spotted him. Guard Bishop had Dubois digging snow to allow for their passage later―at least that’s what the guard had told Dubois. But Joe knew they wouldn’t be going through that way, and that Dubois’s efforts were futile. Every man here knew it too, but none would say a word. So Dubois shoveled in vain, carrying the heavy wet snow from one spot to another, while fresh snow continued to fall in great flakes through the trees. He’d been at it for hours.

Joe stared up at the dark blueish sky. What had they ever done that was so evil they should be banished here?

“Get back to work, Vega.” Guard Bishop was eyeballing him. Then Bishop walked over to Dubois. Bored, the cruel guard was obviously ready to resume the game. “What is this snow doing here?” he asked Dubois.

Joe looked around, seeing only downcast eyes. Who would stand with him? He spotted Novak―his blue eyes were steady on his, urging Joe to stay calm. Their friendship was over, but Novak wouldn’t let him go down alone.

“This―” Bishop pointed to a mount of snow to Dubois’s right―”is the morning snow.

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