Accident in the Workplace

Emmet Cummins

Leroy Johnson played guitar. In 1932 he was arrested for loitering and served two years of his five year sentence. He was shot through the chest by a linepusher. Bodie County Penitentiary covered four hundred acres of birch, elm, spruce and horse chestnut; beavers built dams on the Black Flood River that flowed past the cotton plantation and the red house, a small boat yard with omegas that were occasionally deployed when a recalcitrant prisoner attempted a Jouvie. Leroy was one of those who, one autumn afternoon, witnessed the death of Gregory Jouve, a Caribbean coconut seller. They had been working on the cotton and then Gregory wasnt there any longer. Some of the men recalled hearing a splash but everyone saw Samuels gallop across from the left, without his usual equanimity, aiming his shotgun at the thin figure on the brink of the water. He seemed to consider taking the shot but hesitated. He lowered the gun and bolted after Gregory, a bobbing head in the water at this stage. As the prisoners watched, Samuels horse leapt in to the water and swam towards the struggling Jouve. As they neared him, Samuels stretched towards Gregory with the barrel of the shotgun offering his help. Gregory grabbed the gun like a starving man would food, and clung to it with his rapidly fading strength, heavy clothes dragging him into the hungry river. Samuels started to pull him on to the horse, hands bleeding from the effort when he suddenly lost his grip. There was a loud bang, then silence. Gregorys limp body slid into the water, his face a pulpy mash peppered with shotgun shells. Samuels dropped the gun in shock, his face drained of blood. He turned the horse and rode it quietly to shore. The horse whinnied as it reached the shore, confused at his unresponsive rider. Samuels was in shock. He had never killed a

Accident in the Workplace

Emmet Cummins

man before; accidentally or in cold blood. He felt empty inside, a shell of the man he used to be. The drenched line pusher flinched as Leroy let out a stifled cough. The prisoners had fearfully started working again after the gunshot. Many of them had admired Gregory, a hard worker, an honest man who was framed for a crime he didnt commit. Or so he and everyone else in there said. Gregory Jouve never planned on escaping until he got word that his wife was dying. They had no extended family or trusted friends so his children would effectively be orphaned. The escape was planned two days in advance. He had meant to escape when Samuels had been at the far end of the plantation but the opportunity arose when he was scolding another worker and stepped off his horse to confront the good for nothin negro as he called him. Samuels called it a day as he wanted to wash the blood and grey matter off his face and clothes. That night as he went over the days events he was overcome by a wave of depression and a clear realisation of what he had just done. As his wife tossed and turned in bed, Samuels mind was in turmoil. He got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, quietly opening the door and creeping past the creaking third step from the bottom. On the way to the kitchen he passed his gun cabinet. He stopped and stared at it for what seemed like ages. Looking around, he approached the cabinet, put in the lock combination and took out his .45 magnum revolver. His father had owned that gun, its worn, mahogany grip shiny with use and the barrel notched with three small cuts. So Ill never forget, his father used to tell him every time he asked. He had never really understood what he had meant. Until now, that is.

Accident in the Workplace

Emmet Cummins

Hand quivering with nerves, he slid the cold barrel into his mouth, a bitter metallic taste reaching his tongue. Shaking, he contemplated it and suddenly pulled the trigger. A resounding click came from the gun. Samuels collapsed to the ground in a heap, broken and defeated, crying. Was this all he had to look forward to in life?