Mungus: Book 1 by Chad Leito Page B

about some of my history.  I told him about my parents, how they died, and about the orphanage.  He seemed so interested in how my days went and asked a lot of questions about what school was like.  He looked off into the distance, into the sky over the rows of cotton.  “I would love a life like that.  I would love that kind of freedom.”  He shook his head and took another bite of turkey sandwich.
    “I don’t understand,” I said.  “I thought that the Beardsleys signed a seven year contract to work, just like we did.”
    “That’s right,” Bradley said.
    “Then why are you still here?”  I motioned over the rows and rows of Beardsley servants, “why are all of these people still working for no pay.”
    Bradley laughed.  “It’s not like that, Walt.  The contracts don’t matter.  The plantation owners don’t obey them.  And even if some good-hearted plantation owner obeys their contract and lets a worker go after they have served their time, the Salyers are so corrupt that it doesn’t matter.  It’s like they have a little pact.  No one will hire you if you’re not a Salyer.  They don’t want you to work and they don’t need you.  So you can’t get a job, you can’t get any money, and you wind up crawling back to the Salyers and begging for food.  They put a 200-year contract in front of your face and a piece of pie.  When you’re that hungry, you’ll sign anything.”
    “What about living out in the woods?  Why don’t people do that?”
    “They could, I guess.  But that’s if you’re ever free.”
    In the distance I could see the tall fences that surrounded the farm.  “Does anyone ever just leave?  Does anyone ever escape and go live out in the woods?”
    Bradley gulped down the last of his water.  “I don’t know.  Not from here at least.  I haven’t seen too many people try to escape.”
    “Why not?”
    “For one, I don’t know how anyone would escape from here; with the fences, the dogs, the barbed wire and the guards, it’s nearly impossible.  Secondly, if you get caught trying to escape, you run a pretty big chance of getting put in either the Theatre or the Cell.”
    “What’s the Cell?” I asked.
    “Being put in the Cell is something that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.  There is an eight by eight by eight-foot metal cage out in the middle of the farm.  People who get into trouble by Glen for stuff—stealing, fighting, whatever—get put in it.  It’s pretty simple.  You just get locked in there and you don’t get to come out until your heart’s not beating anymore.  No food.  No water.  You just shrivel up under the hot sun.  That’s why a lot of people aren’t too interested in trying to escape.”
    “Why doesn’t the president step in and stop this?” I asked.
    “President Flagg is a bad guy.  He wouldn’t stop anything.  He likes the Theatre and he likes the inequality.”
    “That’s not the president,” I said.  “I saw the president.  He strikes me as a good guy.  His name is Dickerson or something.”
    Burl looked out among the cabins.  “Then maybe there’s hope.  Maybe the new guy just doesn’t know what’s going on.”
    We didn’t talk for a moment.  I just chewed on my sandwich and watched Saul talking to the Beardsley girl.  He laughed and opened his mouth wide to show a large bite of sandwich in his mouth.  I smiled.  Bradley went back into his cabin for a nap and I sat outside and watched Saul.  When he was done eating he stood up and walked over to me.
    “Do you want to play catch?  I can go get my baseball!”
    I was tired, but his eyes looked excited.
    “I’ve never played outside before,” he added.  “It will be like they really used to do in the big leagues, like we used to watch on Wednesdays.”
    “Sure,” I said.
    He got out his lumpy baseball and we went out into the road and began to throw it back and forth.  Soon, other servants took notice and began to join us.  Time went