“Hey, boss... Clothes won’t buy us a new arm from Mother!”
“Yeah!” Someone else backed him up.
“Pay us sol!”
“We don’t need clothes! We’ll take food, though!”
“Clothes. A couple shoes.” The leader repeated in his bored tone, pulling at the flaps of his coat. “Anyone? Come up here, one at a time.”
Even despite the dissatisfied grumbling, I was disappointed to see at least thirty people line up as soon as he said that. At this rate, there was probably no way I’d get extra work with my elbow like it was... I looked like a goblin, but I was really more of a one-armed zombie.
“What kind of work?” Someone in line asked. “And where?”
“Easy stuff. No brainpower required.” He was obviously mocking us.
“What’s the job? How much time? Is it far from here?”
“Hauling. Two hours or so. A mile and a half away.”
Half the people in line — maybe even more — immediately sat back down.
I stood up, pinning my left elbow to my side to make it less visible, and stood behind a pair of angrily muttering men. Soon I was in the midst of a slowly, reluctantly forming column of future haulers. Once everyone had decided whether they wanted to work or not, the hirers did a quick headcount.
“Eighteen... Mostly weaklings...” One of the club-wielding thugs reported emotionlessly to his leader.
“Fine,” said the boss, nodding sharply. “Move.”
And we moved, shuffling in an uncoordinated march down the hallway. The workers who had decided not to go swore at us, spitting death threats, and calling us cheap whores who gave it up for nothing.
“So what do haulers do?” I asked a woman tall enough to be a basketball player. She had incredibly long legs, but was taking short enough steps that I could easily keep up with her. She was wearing a tank top, shorts, sneakers, a green bandanna, and battered elbow pads. And this barefoot goblin in ill-fitting shorts trudged along next to her...
She looked me over with an experienced glance and twisted her lips cynically:
“You’ll find out soon enough. It’s gonna be hard for you. Just give up now.”
“Nah,” I smiled. “I gotta try it first. Then I’ll decide. Who knows... What if I like it?”
“Dumbass.”
“Maybe I am,” I sighed, adjusting my shorts. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, we have a mile and a half ahead of us. What do you say we pass the time with a little conversation?”
“Fuck off.”
“Understood.” I slowed down a little, letting the person behind me catch up. “Hey, how about that weather in the hallways recently, huh? It’s so windy...”
“Shut up and die.”
“Got it.” I sighed, looked at another unhappy soul, and said, “It’s surprising, really. Aren’t you afraid you might get punched in the face for saying that? Hm?”
“What?”
“What would you do without teeth? It’s not like you can just grow new ones, you future lisping fuckwit...”
“Grow new... the elves know, I guess! Why can’t you just walk quietly? And no need to hit me... I’m a goblin, life has already hit me enough. I’m ready to die. But somehow I’m still alive...”
“That’s not an answer.”
“An answer to what?”
“You’re getting off topic, damn goblin,” I frowned in annoyance, but deep inside I was glad I had managed to pull him into a conversation — even though it took threats rather than politeness. “Aren’t you afraid you might get punched in the face?”
“What makes you think that? I am afraid. I need my teeth. And it would hurt. Everyone’s afraid — except maybe worms and the lowest zombies. They have nothing to lose. They’ve seen so much and been through hell...”
“But every other person just tells me to go die.”
“Maybe they’re wishing you well?” My conversation partner smiled timidly. His wasted figure gave me some comfort that I wasn’t the weakest one in our herd. There were people worse off than me.
And that’s really what we were — a herd. A sorry sight, for sure. Almost twenty weaklings trudging along the well-lit hallway with their heads bowed, shuffling, staggering, letting out the occasional moan. We looked like a herd of cows that had been rejected as defective and sent to the dog food factory.
“Well, then, die!” I muttered, smiling. “By which I mean, I wish you the best. How do you like that?”
