Road to Redemption - Michelle Dalton Page 0,2

attention to them.

“You are now at Redemption Farm. You’re not here to waste my time or fuck around. This shit is real. For some reason, God, the judge, and the good owner of this place have decided you are worth their effort, and are entitled to a second chance.” He fisted his hands and pinned them to his thighs. “I do not! You’re all a bunch of washouts. A waste of space. So while you’re here, you will follow my law and if you don’t, I’ll see you back behind bars before you can say sorry. And FY blerrie I … that’s where ninety percent of you will wind up anyway.” His eyes travelled up and down the two rows of men and once again landed on Ray. Ben’s words felt almost personally aimed at him.

Ray shook the feeling. He’d not fail—not this time. He had too much to make up for.

“Right, place your bags at your feet. Open them, take a step back, and stand at attention … and for those of you who don’t know what attention is, you’d better figure it out, as in yesterday, or prepare to run the circumference of this farm which is a decent ten kilometres.”

Ray dropped his bag and zipped it open before straightening his body, eyes forward and placing his arms rigidly beside his body. Memories of high school cadets flooded back. Every Monday morning, come rain or shine, their platoon would drill for an hour before school. They’d been the champs of the west coast.

“Name, inmate.” Mr. Meintjies’ face suddenly appeared before him, his nose a hair’s breadth from Ray’s.

“Raymond Le Roux, sir.”

“Ah, army background. Well, haven’t you fallen from grace.” Ben smirked.

Raymond didn’t bother to correct the man.

The man knelt on the ground and began to rifle through Ray’s few possessions, not caring that clothes and toiletries fell into the dirt. He then proceeded to search Ray, “Spread your legs and arms.” He barked as his hands slapped and grabbed their way around Ray’s body. “Lift your shirt,” he ordered, “Right, get your things. You’re in cabin two.” Mr Meintjies pointed toward the living quarters.

While it was obvious he was stern as a drill sergeant to keep the men in line, there was a part of the man Ray recognised—an arrogant, power-hungry bully lurked just beneath the surface. Best he kept on the man’s good side. Men like Mr. Meintjies could make life hell for blokes like Ray.

Mina’s house manager’s son, Piet, trotted up to the office window. “Here, miss. The list from the driver. He said all their network is gevok.”

“Klein, Piet! Mind your language,” Mina chastised as she pushed open the large window and reached through the burglar bars for the sheet of paper.

“Sorry, miss. I mean, their stuff is broke.” The boy looked to his feet. There were times he looked older than his sixteen years, but then, that was what a hard life did.

“What you mean is, their system is offline,” she corrected him.

“Yes, miss. Offline.” His cheeky grin irked Mina, but she took it with the good spirit it was intended.

“Thank you. Get back to work then. I’m sure Mr Meintjies needs help with the new inmates.” She waved her hand in a way that told the boy he was dismissed.

Mina swivelled in her chair and placed the crumpled sheet of names on the desk beside her computer keyboard. She’d copy it into her computer so she had both a printed and digital copy.

Her eyes scanned the list of names and froze. Her heart stumbled and her breath caught. She reached, without looking away from the page, for her reading specs. She rarely wore the things.

Slipping the titanium frame on her face, she leaned forward, as though a closer look would prove her wrong.

Impossible!

Mina stood so fast her chair tipped over. Her vision blurred then righted as she gripped the paper, ripped the spectacles off, dropped them on her desk, and stormed outside. She only slowed her pace when she reached the edge of her garden. From here, she had a clear view of the camp and the inmates Ben was lining up and berating.

She knew his words were harsh and often cruel, and more than that—true, but with every intake, they managed to set two or three of her visitors on the right path. For Mina, that was enough. She didn’t want to save the world, but that was no reason to give up on it.

Ben spoke their language; he’d been one of