Free CURSE THE MOON by Lee Jackson

retribution,” he cautioned. “We will do as we always have: conduct ourselves with dignity and look out for each other.” He smiled softly. “I wish I had something better to say in closing, but,” he indicated the outer heavy iron doors opening and guards waiting for them, “have a good day at work.”
    With that, the prisoners started to disperse to their work groups, but one man called out, “What about our clothes?”
    The leader laughed. “Ah sí, las ropas – the clothes. Well, today, we work in our underwear. Tonight, we will receive back clothes taken from us on arrival.” He laughed again. “You might not get back exactly the same clothes, but you’ll still look better than in your underwear. You might have to do some trading to get something that fits.” With that, he left.
    Atcho looked across the crowd as he filed out with his work group to meet the guards waiting for them, who would shepherd them to the marble quarries. He felt a nudge on his elbow. Turning, he found the man who had rallied the prisoners the night before. “I saw what you did,” the man said quietly. “I told the leaders. We’ll be in touch.” He started to leave, but Atcho stopped him.
    “Wait! What happened to the old man who was beaten?”
    The man looked tiredly at Atcho, and his eyes moistened. He said simply, “He was my friend,” shook his head, turned, and walked away.
    Atcho trudged with his group. His eyes hurt in the sunlight after having been in the half-light of Circular 4 for the last ten hours. In the center of the compound was the massive mess hall. As he entered, Atcho could not help being awed by the incredible size of the round structure. It was not as tall as the other Circulars, but its diameter was much larger, and with all the men from the prison moving in and out at roughly the same time, the din was loud, and carrying on a conversation was all but impossible.
    “Sometimes we meet family in here,” an inmate yelled to him.
    “How?”
    “The guards make them listen to a speech about how great Castro is and what will happen to them if they don’t obey rules. They are searched, and then just pushed into here to find their family members.”
    “But I thought that they only get to visit for an hour.”
    The man shrugged. “True, and it takes at least half an hour to find each other.” Atcho looked down at his plate in silence. His breakfast was watery cornmeal gruel. There was plenty of it, but he noticed lumps in the slop, and started poking at them. He looked around. The prisoners who had been there longer were picking items from the gruel and tossing them on the floor. He gagged as he recognized pieces of cockroaches, soap …
    “What is that?” he asked a man sitting next to him.
    The man grinned. “Horse penis,” he yelled back. “The guards throw this stuff in there. Toss it out, but you’ve got to eat – that’s all there is, and you have to take some of it with you for lunch. If we’re lucky, it won’t spoil in the hot sun before we get to eat it.”
    Atcho stared blankly at the man. He was in his early twenties, and had a gaunt look of someone who had already suffered debilitating conditions for an extended time. Whether he was tall or not was difficult to tell because of a permanent stoop. His skin was dark and leathery from apparent long hours in the sun. His jet-black hair was laced with dirt and showing signs of gray. Despite sarcasm in his tone, he carried a wide, friendly smile. “I am Leon.” He held out his hand, and Atcho shook it without enthusiasm. “You just got here, no?” Atcho nodded dully. “So then were you in the fighting?” Again, Atcho nodded. “What happened?” Leon asked. “Why did the resistance fail?”
    Atcho shook his head. “We’ll probably never know.”
    Leon leaned over and put his mouth close to Atcho’s ear. “People know who you are,” he said. “Atcho, some of us saw what you did last night, to Javier.” Atcho glanced up sharply.