Fifty-seven: Scumbag's office

"Jean," Wobbly Nose patted my shoulder, gesturing for me to stand with an oddly gentle expression. "Jean, come on. Come with me."

I looked down at the seedlings at my feet and the row I hadn't finished planting. Then I looked back at him.

"Leave that for now," he said, gesturing to somebody else to come and take over. The other prisoners kept a wide berth of me and the soldiers were a lot nicer than they used to be. They let me stay and work in the farm for as long as I wanted, whenever I wanted. They didn't yell at me anymore. "Here," he pried my hands loose from my tools and led me by the hand back to my room. "Go have a shower," he pointed. "Put on some clean clothes. There are some people here to see you."

I blinked at him.

There was no point having a shower. Nor was there any point in clean clothes. They all just got dirty again out in the field. After seeing the people who didn't care about me, I'd just be going back to work in the field.

"Come on," he cajoled, rubbing his long wobbly nose so that it made a funny buzzing sound when he ran his finger back and forth over the end of it. "Please? If I bring you in looking like this, they'll think I've been rubbing you in the dirt or something. Think of it as doing me a favour. Look, I'll give you some water and half my apple. How's that? The apples just came in today and I only get one a day."

I nodded and stuck out my hand. He shook on it.

Deal.

I went and had my shower. Cleaned up as best I could and put on semi clean clothes. They were all I had.

"I suppose that'll have to do," Wobbly Nose gave me the cup of water and rubbed his nose again, not looking entirely pleased. "Here," he gave me half his apple and I munched away after drinking down the water. "Come on," he gestured and took my elbow. I followed where he led, happily enjoying my first taste of fruit in almost six months.

I wrinkled my nose at him when I saw he was taking me to the Scumbag's office.

"I know," he told me, "but it's not the man himself you're seeing today. He has visitors. Hurry and finish the apple or I'll get in trouble."

Obliging him, he gave me a small smile and led me into the office. Upon seeing two familiar agents rise to greet me, I turned on my heel to head straight back out the door. Between whatever they wanted and my plants, the plants were more important.

"Jean," Wobbly Nose's grip tightened on my arm and he swung me back around, back into the office.

"That is no way to behave before me or my guests," Scumbag barked and I looked down at my bare feet, wriggling my toes and trying to dislodge the dirt that had gotten stuck between my toes. I could leave the dust between my toes in his smelly office. Scumbag stood over me and I cringed, expecting the usual slap, but nothing happened. He just went back to his seat. "Your country has need of you," Scumbag announced over my head. To someone behind me, perhaps, except there was no one there. I looked. "You should feel proud that your country feels the need to call upon your help, even if you are a traitor."

"Actually," Mr Cooper corrected, "she's not a traitor."

"What? Then what's she been doing in the Compound using up resources for?" the Scumbag demanded.

"To put it precisely," Mr Cooper scowled, speaking with an icy air and Mr Raring gave the large man a steely glare, "she was left here for her safety and to misdirect our enemy. She was never a traitor. Judging by her condition, I'd say that your work in overseeing POWs and other detained persons' safety and well-being has been poorly managed."

"Nobody said anything about anyone being anything but traitors and POWs," the Scumbag blustered, glaring at poor Wobbly Nose, who shuffled his feet nervously, knowing that when the agents left, he was literally going to be feeling the short end of a stick.

"I think it's about time the Compound received an inspection," said Mr Raring's dry voice, tapping something into his phone, "and is investigated for mismanagement of resources. There seems to be some records of items perpetually going missing in here. Am I wrong?"

"No, well, yes, but not anything vital," the Scumbag's phone rang, but he silenced it.

"I think food and vitamin supplements are pretty vital," Mr Raring said in a voice that could be considered glacial. The Scumbag's phone rang again, but he silenced it again. "Not to mention a variety of tools, guns and other miscellania, like health care items," he glanced at me, "or clothes and shoes. They'd all sell very well on the black market."

I wriggled my toes again and wondered what this all had to do with me. It had nothing to do with me and I needed to get back to my plants. There was still plenty of work to be done there.

"Jean," Wobbly Nose hissed at me when I turned around to head back out to the field and he pulled me back. "Stay still."

Wriggling my toes again in frustration, I traced a grain of wood in the floorboards with my eyes. The grain kept going blurry and I had to keep starting again to refocus. I shook my head to stop the spinning sensation and Wobbly Nose pulled me closer to him, tightening his grip.

"Not now," he whispered in my ear. "Don't go fainting now. It'll look bad."