I also needed to take the time to check on the prisoners. I weaved around the camp, spread across at least ten acres, keeping an eye out. I waved to the woman who had helped check on me when I was still on bed rest. She had laundry duty. I peered at her hands, wrinkled and white from too much time in the water. I nearly crashed paths with a group coming over the hill, each carrying a shovel on their shoulder. None of them looked happy. I had certainly dodged a bullet with my assignment; so far I hadn't come across a better alternative.
"Watch out!" someone yelled.
I jumped out of the way of a panicked pig, squealing as two men chased it. Someone else shouted for help to repair the pen the animals had broken out of. Behind the pen, in between a staggered row of tents, something caught my eye. I paused, taking a step back and craning my neck. A row of guards stood around a larger tent. The prisoners!
I walked toward the tent, blocking out the sound of squeals and grunts, forming a plan in my head as I went. As I neared, I realized there were two layers of guards I would have to talk my way through. I approached the first, flashing my list of names and folding them back up. "I have new orders for the prisoners."
I have no idea what that means, I told myself. I kept my chin up, fixing him with my stare.
"I'll take them." He held out his hand.
I crossed my arms, tucking the papers out of his reach and displaying my already prominent red armband. "Sorry, has to go directly to the head guard."
I really, really hoped there was one.
He sighed, then miraculously, stepped aside. "Fine." He gestured to another guard on the inner circle, near the opening of the large tent.
I waited until I passed him to let out a sigh of relief. It was short lived; there was still another guard I had to get past. How could I possibly convince him to let me in alone with the prisoners?
Excuse me, we're conducting a short survey with all camp prisoners. Excuse me, don't you know who I am? Excuse me, I’m the cleaning crew.
My confidence was quickly waning as I approached the head guard. He was bent over, fiddling with the leather straps around his boots. I adjusted my red band to make it appear larger and cleared my throat, still having no idea what to say.
The guard straightened, or at least I could've sworn he did. He was shorter than me by a full foot or more.
Then he turned, and my mouth dropped open in shock. "Clay?!"
His beard was definitely longer, and his eyebrows definitely thicker, but there was no doubt it was Clay.
I took a step forward, bent slightly, and hissed, "What are you doing here?" If he had been spying for Shawn all along, I would strangle him right then and there – with his beard.
"Kaitlyn, please keep your voice down," he hissed right back. "If you recall, I was one of the few who volunteered to hook up with One Less after the battle at the caves."
I went silent while I racked my brain. It was so long ago – and the preparations went by in such a whirlwind I wasn't aware of half the things that occurred. "I think…maybe…I—"
"What are you doing here?" he cut me off.
I cleared my throat again. "Spying." Might as well be forthright about it, if he was with Shawn, Clay would turn me in no matter what I said.
Clay's mouth twitched. "So you decide to show up at the most watched place in camp?"
I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. "I have friends inside." I moved to step around him.
"So does Shawn."
I stopped in my tracks. "What do you mean?"
"He keeps his own people in there, playing them off like real prisoners. They're meant to keep an eye on things; get what information they can from the others."
I rubbed my temples. "Oh, great." Like playing a game of chess blindfolded, this was all getting too complicated.
"Keep it down, will ya? You're attracting attention." He motioned to the circle of guards; a few were looking our way.
I straightened, and handed him the papers, trying to play off my role. "Some of the guys in there are mine. Are they being treated okay?"
He pretended to look over the papers. "Of course – I'm the head guard."
"Are they getting enough food and water?"
"More than the working parties do." He crossed his arms.
"No physical abuse?"
He huffed part of his mustache away from his mouth. "I am doing the best I can here, Kaitlyn. I've been with One Less for almost two years now, sabotaging what I can, passing info when I can. I haven't been caught yet." He handed the papers back to me. "Now you need to go before you ruin all that. I'll catch up with you at chow tonight."
"Fine. Tonight, then. And I want to know everything."