She pulled at the metal collar to get some airflow between her skin and the warm surface. The collar was always more uncomfortable on furnace duty and rubbed against the scar on her neck, which caused it to blister if she was not careful. She tried to tuck the end of the damp towel wrapped around her head into the small gap and cover the scar, which throbbed. The flames from the furnace spat at her as she fed it more fuel. Shovelling in whatever there was. The fuel for the furnace could be anything that would burn, from old furniture from abandoned buildings to logs from felled trees.
The work crew she was assigned to this week sucked. It was the worst of all the slave duties, and she dreaded it every rotation. At least she was not as unlucky as others, who found themselves permanently on the shift. Those unfortunate enough to upset or disobey orders or, just if a guard disliked them, could find themselves on it permanently. The heat bellowed from the furnaces was scorching, and her skin felt dry. Her calloused hands had started to split between her fingers again due to the constant dry heat. She did not notice the pain, just the blood that was running down her fingers. She was so used to it that she wrapped two strips of cloth around her hands to reduce the chance of infection from the open cuts, however small they might be, and carried on with her task.
Tabitha had been captured as a young girl and sold into the slave trade at the coming of age. She had been out gathering with her older sister away from their homestead. They regularly went on trips into the surrounding fields and woodlands, collecting herbs and plants for their mother. Their mother, Harriet, was a skilled medic and provided services to the local township within the valley where they had lived. They had been collecting fungi on this occasion that they used in a tonic that Harriet would provide to the townsfolk as a cure for stomach upsets. The fungi only grew at the base of a specific tree, and even though they did not know the names of the trees, their mother had taught them different leaf shapes and bark textures that the fungi would grow at. They had to travel to a small lake at the far end of the valley where they knew such a tree was when they had heard a vehicle.
The township did not own any vehicles, so they had been drawn towards the unusual sound, not knowing who or what it was. The grey metallic contraption had been travelling from the only passable entrance into the valley. They had noticed four men inside the vehicle, and her sister had stood and waved as they had drawn closer. Neither of them had ever left the valley since their births and had always lived in isolation. Their mother only allowed them to visit the township on rare occasions.
The vehicle had stopped, and the men had climbed out and initially asked them how far the township was and how many people lived there. Her sister had answered their questions, pointing in the direction of the township at the far end of the valley and that it was probably a two-hour walk or so, explaining that they would not be able to get their vehicle there as there were no roads leading to it. It was then that the men captured them. They had both frantically tried to fight off the raiders, but they were too strong. The last that Tabitha had ever seen of the valley, the only place she had ever known, was the view from a small tear in the sack over her head. They had screamed and fought initially inside the vehicle until they had been threatened with violence if they did not stop their hysterics. They clung to each other, terrified and sobbing.
The next couple of years became the worst of her life. They both suffered horrendous abuse at the hands of the raiders, beaten, shamed and raped whenever the raiders felt like it. Tabitha was the younger of the two sisters and had not suffered as severely as her sister at the hands of the raiders. One of the leaders of the raiding group, called Henry, had taken a liking to her. She still suffered abuse at his hands, just not as poorly as many of the captives. Henry had even treated her well on rare occasions, giving her new clothes or a gift.
Tabitha had not even come of age the first time she had fallen pregnant and had eventually lost the baby after being beaten one night by Henry when he had been very drunk on nectar. She had fallen pregnant a second time and had miscarried naturally. Henry had decided she had more worth being sold and had taken her to one of the slave markets to be traded as a commodity after he decided she could not bear him a child.
Tabitha could still clearly recall the day she was sold. The raiders had travelled to a township called Scarshot. It was a dive of a place known for slave trading within the region. It was here she had parted ways with her sister for the last time. She was being sold as infertile and advertised as good to use and abuse. Her sister had already reached full term and given birth, and the raiding group would not sell captives who could provide them with children.
She had screamed and tried to fight off the slave traders who had come to take her. She had been cudgelled into submission and dragged to the holding pens. That was when her metal collar was placed around her neck and welded in place. She subconsciously rubbed at the scar whenever she thought about that day.
She could not remember the price she raised at auction. A man who looked kindly on her paid her fee. He had what Tabitha had thought a genuine smile and had spoken to her softly, informing her that she would at last be away from these horrible people who had imprisoned her. She and six other slaves had all been purchased and loaded into the back of a truck. The buyers had not placed sacks over their heads, but they did attach a chain between each of their collars.
They had travelled for several days to what had become her new home, and the journey there had been pleasant. It was the first experience she had had in several years where she had not been slapped, hit, or beaten.
On arrival at her new home, she discovered the truth about the kindly-looking man who had shown her civility for the first time in a very long time and how misled she had been. She soon learned that he was the slave buyer of one of the few metal factories that still operated on the East Coast. It secured its labour from Scarshot, and there were always fresh faces turning up every month or so as other slaves either died from the jobs they did or succumbed to sickness.
She was known as Tabs by the other slaves who had been there for over five years. She had earned herself small privileges over the years by working hard and at least had a mattress sat on a bed frame to sleep on at night rather than many who just had blankets or some luckier slaves who had old flea-infested mattresses in the dorm area.
The conditions were horrendous, and the building was dilapidated and falling to pieces. A part of the wall was shored up by metal poles, and none of the windows had glass. The toilets were open pits that were cleared monthly by those slaves who had been deemed worthy by the slavers. There was a constant fetid stench of human sweat, blood, and excrement in the dorm area as the only washing facilities they had were buckets of cold water, which they drew from a well in the yard.
The dormitory was infested with giant rats, and slaves regularly got bitten. The rats were approximately two feet long, not including their tails and had incisors that easily punctured skin. They did not attack unless someone was unlucky enough to roll onto one at night when they would bite defensively. There had been a few slaves that had ended up dying from infected rat bites since Tabs had been there.
The first couple of months, Tabs had felt physically sick every night, taken back and locked up in the festering living quarters. The main area was an open hall with mattresses or blankets crammed in together. A section on one wall had the names of the slaves who had died previously as a memorial, over two hundred names scratched into the plain brickwork, and several were just labelled unknown. Tabs had asked the first time she had seen someone add a name to the list. A woman had died on that day from an infection.
No one had personal space, and you could not be shy in such an environment. Illness was common, and often, people had coughs and colds. When bouts of sickness and diarrhoea swept through the slaves, the conditions were even more horrendous. Over the years, Tabs had become so used to living there. The lack of privacy and conditions no longer concerned her the same. The only positive about the whole experience was that they ate daily, which was more than a lot of people managed to get.
The shift rotation at the factory ran weekly and always followed the same path: furnace feeding, pounding and then sheet cutting. Every third week was hell, with her having to stock the furnaces. Whenever they were on furnace feeding duty, they were all made to wear a damp towel around their heads, and one of the slaves was dedicated to continually walking around and dampening them.
She remembered the day one of the women had removed the towel they should have kept around their head during furnace feeding; it had only taken minutes with her still by the furnace before the woman’s hair had dried, and a spark caught it, setting it alight. The putrid stench of burning hair and scorched skin was set in her mind forever.
The only bonus that Tabs had from the experience was her fitness. The work was hard and gruelling, but her body had adapted, and although she was small-framed, her body was toned all over, although partially emaciated due to the lack of food compared to the energy she burned daily. One thing the work had done was harden her Tabs experience with the raiders, and then a slave had boosted her figures substantially in brawling, defence and considerably so in endurance. She had auburn-coloured, closely cropped hair. All the slaves kept their hair short, cutting each other regularly with a razor to reduce the chance of lice and reduce the possibility of sparks setting fire to it.
“Oi you lot, that’s it for the day; get back to the dorms,” a burly-looking driver said.
She got up from her knees, stretching and awkwardly taking her first steps after being on her knees for several hours. Once in a feeding roll, you spent your whole time on your knees bent almost double, shovelling the fuel into the furnace opening. Her body and back ached, but it was a pleasant ache Tabs had become used to. Her knees always stiffened up, though, and she was surprised she could walk back to the dorm without staggering some days.
She followed the line of slaves out of the factory into a very dark night sky as the pounders fell silent with the removal of fuel being fed into the furnaces. She looked up and noticed a couple of stars shining through the breaks in the clouds. If only she could be as free as they were. As they trudged barefoot across the mud-laden yard, she saw the bright lights of a truck pulling up outside the fence by the owner's house. The back of the truck opened, and she saw the downtrodden faces of new slaves being herded out of the back, being dragged by the chain between their collars.
The owner of the factory, nicknamed Silver due to his very silver hair, stood on the porchway area, welcoming them all. She remembered her arrival clearly and the dread when she realised where she was. She continued into the dorm, stopped at the toilet pit, went to bed, and collapsed into a deep slumber. She did not even stir as the new slaves, some of whom were sobbing, were shown into the dorm and assigned blanket spaces. The dorm door slammed shut behind them, and the pitch-black inside was only broken by a couple of small candles burning high up the wall on brackets.
The routine continued day after day, week after week, and although Tabs had received minor privileges, she was always hoping for freedom and had never stopped thinking about her mother and sister and what may have come of them. She would infrequently get overwhelmed emotionally, and on these days, she would bottle it in and wait until she was back in the dark and gloom of the dorm area before she would sob quietly into her blanket. It was never good to openly show emotion as the drivers would focus on you, and usually, it ended up in some form of beating.
The morning reveille had come around too soon, and she saw the faces of the newly arrived slaves for the first time. A young girl who did not even look like she had reached the coming of age was sitting in a corner of the dorm crying. No one was consoling her, and it was clear she was alone. She reminded Tabs of herself when she had first arrived at the factory, Paul, an elderly man who had since passed. Paul had taken her under his wing on her first day. Tabs made her way through the tangled bodies on the floor until she could crouch down beside her. She slowly put her hand out and touched the girl on her arm. The girl physically jumped and pulled away from her, staring at Tabs with terror-filled eyes.
“Don’t be frightened," she said to the young girl, “and never allow the drivers to see you are upset. They will target you if you do.”
The girl stared at Tabs with tears streaming down her cheeks. “The work is hard, but you can do it. Never give them the satisfaction of seeing that you are upset. Have you eaten yet?” she asked.
The girl shook her head, indicating that she hadn’t, and Tabs held her hand for her to take. The girl slowly and uncertainly placed her hand into Tabs's. Tabs then stood, kept hold of her hand, and walked the girl to the dorm entrance.
It was raining again, and the yard had already been muddy and was now gathering pools of water on its uneven surface. Tab's was glad they worked inside throughout the day in the dry. Outside the door, a slaver stood under an awning with two of the older slaves who were stirring a large pot of gruel. It had hardly any nutritional value, but at least it was food. A queue of slaves had already formed, and they waited their turn. Tabs drew the young girl forward and asked Nat, the older of the two women, for two portions. Nat took two dirty bowls from a stack and slopped a ladle of gruel into each. Tabs turned and handed a bowl to the young girl.
“Come, let’s eat,” she said, directing the young girl to the side of the dorm area.
They sat down leaning against the cold brick wall, partly sheltering them from the rain, and Tabs started to dig into the gruel using her fingers. “No spoon, I am afraid,” she told the girl. The young girl tentatively began eating the gruel, and for a moment, Tabs hoped she would be ok. The girl ate a few mouthfuls, turned her head sideways and started to vomit. Tabs frowned. She could not help it, as she remembered her first time eating the substance, hardly able to be considered nourishment, let alone food.
“It is an acquired taste, but you will get used to it. You must make sure, whatever happens, that every morning, as soon as we are woken, you come and eat. They only serve food for a few minutes each day before it is thrown away.”
She looked at the toilet pit where Nat and the other women were heading towards with the large pot between them. One of the slaves came running out of the dorm area, shouting for them to stop, and he was ignored as the driver screamed at him, lashing out with a wooden cane and catching the man across his side. “You missed your chance, you lazy fucker. next time, get up when you are supposed to.”
The gruel was unceremoniously tipped into the pit.
Moments later, another guard said, “Right, that’s it, work time, get out here and get lined up. You know where you should be, so get a move on. Our new recruits come over here and line up separately.”
Tabs squeezed the young girl’s hand and prompted her to go to the driver. Her face was fearful, but at least she had stopped crying now. Tabs stood, walked over to the pile of dirty bowls, sat under the awning, and dropped the two they had used back onto it. The final slaves began filing out of the dorm and joined their work crews.
Tabs walked to her line and hoped the young child could find the strength to endure her new reality. Tabs remembered how hard it was to push through the first month and how she slowly adapted to where she was today. She only hoped the young child could conjure the strength to make it that long.