that a meager middle class income is what you’re striving for in life.”
The grocery store was a lie. A complete and utter lie that he thought was necessary to put the people he arrived with at ease. When white people woke up in a cage with a six-foot-four, 350-pound scared black man, they tended to get a little nervous. He’d always been tickled at how white people—hell, he thought, most people—got nervous around him. He liked the feeling of power he got just from his sheer bulk, and he liked when people got out of his way because of fear. That was the real power in life, the only real thing worth having.
“What are you getting at?”
“You’re bound to do well here, Darius. This is a situation, I’m guessing, custom built for your talents. I, on the other hand, am not suited for something like this. Maybe in a corporate boardroom, or on Wall Street, I’d have a chance, but here I don’t. Honestly and realistically, I don’t see me surviving here.”
The man’s candor was interesting, Darius thought, and he was right. This wasn’t the place for CEO’s and bankers. This was the place for blood and sweat and, he laughed inwardly, glory. That was the silliest thing he’d thought in a long time, but it was true. Like the gladiators of Rome, this place was about glory.
“I still don’t know what I can do to help you,” Darius said. “Even if I wanted to help you, which, at the moment, I don’t.”
John chuckled. “No, there isn’t any apparent reason to help me, is there?”
Darius shrugged. He was going to have a hard enough time watching out for himself through all of this.
“Well, do you think this is the rest of our lives? Do you intend to grow old and die in this cave, eating human flesh and rotted vegetables?”
Darius really hadn’t thought any further than surviving. That’s just the way he was. Waking up tomorrow would be nice, but if it didn’t happen, he didn’t think he’d know or care. “I don’t know.”
“I do know,” John responded assertively. “I know that I’m going to get out of here, and I suspect that you will as well. We don’t belong here, Darius, not like these old people, the amputees and cripples that have spent no telling how many years in this cave trying to survive. I plan on leaving.”
“That still doesn’t tell me why I should help you with anything.”
“You have to think further down the line, Darius. You have to look into the future. We won’t always be here, in this pit of crap.”
He though the Arab might be a bit overly optimistic. “And?”
“And,” John began, looking him straight in the eye, “if you help me here, I’ll help you there.”
There it was, he thought, out in the open. “Meaning you’ll pay me if I can keep you alive, correct?”
“Among other things. I see you advancing here, Darius. I see you running this place shortly,” John told him, and Darius felt the bullshit getting so deep he might need waders. “I can help you in that extent. I know how to manage people, if nothing else, and I know how to run a business.”
“But this isn’t a business.”
“Well it should be run like one.”
“What are you getting at?”
John pulled a small piece of drift from his pocket and handed it to Darius. It had 10,000 scratched in it along with John’s initials, JAH . “Consider it a retainer, if you will. I’ll hire you to help me, payable when we both get out of here.”
Darius laughed out loud, turning the small wooden chit over in his hand. “This is absolutely worthless. For all I know you could be some conman just trying to convince me you have money. Even if I could help, which I don’t know if I can or not, how would you expect me to redeem these if you die? Is your father going to pay up on some wooden coin you scratched out here?”
“I can’t prove my family’s wealth here, obviously. I don’t have credit cards or a cell phone for you to call our bank. I guess you’ll
The grocery store was a lie. A complete and utter lie that he thought was necessary to put the people he arrived with at ease. When white people woke up in a cage with a six-foot-four, 350-pound scared black man, they tended to get a little nervous. He’d always been tickled at how white people—hell, he thought, most people—got nervous around him. He liked the feeling of power he got just from his sheer bulk, and he liked when people got out of his way because of fear. That was the real power in life, the only real thing worth having.
“What are you getting at?”
“You’re bound to do well here, Darius. This is a situation, I’m guessing, custom built for your talents. I, on the other hand, am not suited for something like this. Maybe in a corporate boardroom, or on Wall Street, I’d have a chance, but here I don’t. Honestly and realistically, I don’t see me surviving here.”
The man’s candor was interesting, Darius thought, and he was right. This wasn’t the place for CEO’s and bankers. This was the place for blood and sweat and, he laughed inwardly, glory. That was the silliest thing he’d thought in a long time, but it was true. Like the gladiators of Rome, this place was about glory.
“I still don’t know what I can do to help you,” Darius said. “Even if I wanted to help you, which, at the moment, I don’t.”
John chuckled. “No, there isn’t any apparent reason to help me, is there?”
Darius shrugged. He was going to have a hard enough time watching out for himself through all of this.
“Well, do you think this is the rest of our lives? Do you intend to grow old and die in this cave, eating human flesh and rotted vegetables?”
Darius really hadn’t thought any further than surviving. That’s just the way he was. Waking up tomorrow would be nice, but if it didn’t happen, he didn’t think he’d know or care. “I don’t know.”
“I do know,” John responded assertively. “I know that I’m going to get out of here, and I suspect that you will as well. We don’t belong here, Darius, not like these old people, the amputees and cripples that have spent no telling how many years in this cave trying to survive. I plan on leaving.”
“That still doesn’t tell me why I should help you with anything.”
“You have to think further down the line, Darius. You have to look into the future. We won’t always be here, in this pit of crap.”
He though the Arab might be a bit overly optimistic. “And?”
“And,” John began, looking him straight in the eye, “if you help me here, I’ll help you there.”
There it was, he thought, out in the open. “Meaning you’ll pay me if I can keep you alive, correct?”
“Among other things. I see you advancing here, Darius. I see you running this place shortly,” John told him, and Darius felt the bullshit getting so deep he might need waders. “I can help you in that extent. I know how to manage people, if nothing else, and I know how to run a business.”
“But this isn’t a business.”
“Well it should be run like one.”
“What are you getting at?”
John pulled a small piece of drift from his pocket and handed it to Darius. It had 10,000 scratched in it along with John’s initials, JAH . “Consider it a retainer, if you will. I’ll hire you to help me, payable when we both get out of here.”
Darius laughed out loud, turning the small wooden chit over in his hand. “This is absolutely worthless. For all I know you could be some conman just trying to convince me you have money. Even if I could help, which I don’t know if I can or not, how would you expect me to redeem these if you die? Is your father going to pay up on some wooden coin you scratched out here?”
“I can’t prove my family’s wealth here, obviously. I don’t have credit cards or a cell phone for you to call our bank. I guess you’ll
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