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    The Farm: a South African Story
    The Farm: a South African Story
    The Farm: a South African Story
    Ebook143 pages1 hour

    The Farm: a South African Story

    By D.R. Evans

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    About this ebook

    On a Farm in South Africa a boys runs away from an evil master. The labour dept is tasked with the investigation of labour abuse.But they find a happy farm environment. An experienced labour detective and a young rookie feel something is wrong. When they delve deeper labour abuse is the least of the problems.
    in a country where the past is not history not all monsters are human.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherD.R. Evans
    Release dateJun 1, 2015
    ISBN9781512252187
    The Farm: a South African Story
    Author

    D.R. Evans

    45 years young. Live in south Africa on the tip of Africa.

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      Book preview

      The Farm - D.R. Evans

      The Farm: a South African story.

      Not all monsters are Human

      Chapter 1

      The small figure broke through the underbrush stopping to listen.

      Heavy breathing was the only sound breaking the silence of the cold night air.

      He forced his breathing to slow down, breathing in quickly then forcing a slow controlled breath out again.

      The days of track practice now coming to the fore.

      All sounded quiet, had he made it?

      Was he free?

      Holding his breath for as long as he could, he craned his head towards the bushes.

      Still no sound, good, he could slow his pace to plan his route.

      Then he heard it, a scream shattered the night, a scream of rage and desperation.

      No, he had not out run it yet.

      His heart skipped a beat, his breathing increased as he started running again. He knew he was close to getting away, every meter that he was still running, was another meter he was still alive.

      The sound of the bushes breaking behind him told him the master was getting closer. The sound was getting louder, branches cracking, heavy footprints smashing the underbrush, he was getting closer.

      He had to get to the road, if he could get to the road he could get help and he would have a better chance to be free.

      After years of fear and abuse he would be away, he did not care where away was, as long as it was somewhere he could get too.

      Another scream broke through the still of the night, this time only the anger was still present, the desperation had gone.

      The master had found his trail again and was coming fast.

      The boy knew he had to get to the fence. Once he had got to the fence he knew he would be closer to being free.

      His uncle had been the first to try leave the farm. He had made past the gate.

      The family had thought he had made it when he did not return for 2 days.

      On the third day he returned to the farm.

      Not as they had hoped with help but in chains, bound to the back of the masters pick up.

      The master tied his uncle to a tree, then he and his men took turns to beat him unconscious.

      They were all forced to watch the beating.

      Because as the master had said, it was an example to the rest, if they tried to leave, they will not make it. He would never let anyone leave and the next person he brought back would not be able to run anywhere.

      His dad had said his brother had never been the same after that.

      Although the boy remembered little about his father’s brother, who had died when he was only 4 years old, he had hazy memories of the few times he spent sitting on his knee while he was told stories of the day he nearly got away.

      Over the following years, his father with the limited help from what was left of his brother’s mind, had made maps of the farms more obscure areas, volunteering for all the jobs that made them go out without supervision. Whenever they went out to the fields to work in the fields they made mental images of the far away areas.

      They had found that the best route was through the west end gate. The river and thick bushes would make the perfect dampener for any trail left by an escapee running away. The only problem was that the closest farm after the bushes was twenty kilometers away. Being caught before getting there was nearly impossible.

      It was only many years later that his father had come to the conclusion that it was time for another try.

      When he turned 16 they decided he must go, it was no life for him on this farm

      The completion of the new freeway just outside the farm would make it easier and quicker to get away from the farm once you made it that far.

      The master would not be able to use his local knowledge to track down his quarry.

      They had prepared for weeks, scrounging and saving as much food as possible, hiding it away and tempting a beating and possible death if the master was in a mood.

      The plan was to leave from the far west gate, moving as quick as possible towards the river. The main national road passed the farm around 10 km away from the river.

      They knew it was going to be a hard run but they knew if anyone could do it, he was the one. He was very fit from his hard days of work in the master’s fields...

      The timing was going to be critical.

      On the second week of every month the farm went into what the workers called The killing Time.

      To supplement the farm the master had started keeping pigs. Abattoir had been erected in the barn near the pig sties. A one stop breeding and killing area.

      On these two nights the dogs were locked up.

      The escape was set to take place when they knew the dogs would be locked up for the two nights as the master and his men were preparing the pigs for slaughter, the smell of blood always made the dogs crazy and these dogs could not be trusted when they were crazed.

      That evening at the dinner table they heard the squealing of the pigs and they knew the time had come. The sound of pigs being pushed towards the killing shed was the signal they had been waiting for.

      He had left the dining hall straight after dinner. When he rose to walk out of the hall the few members of the village, trusted with the secret, made small nodding movements with their head showing solidarity and a silent show of support.

      When he gave his mother a glance he saw she had to hold her hands together to stop them shaking. This was going to be the biggest test he had ever had to his resolve.

      Knowing that if he got away, it would be beneficial for his mother and the whole village.

      This was something he had to do he could not, no he would not fail.

      A traveling bag that his father had made from an old work shirt was tied to the outside of the main hall door.

      Hanging the bag over his shoulders he made his way down to the village entrance.

      The words of his father were still repeating in his head

      Run fast and do not look back for any reason

      That had been 3 hours ago.

      Chapter 2

      The large red 18 wheeler rumbled down the national freeway, its huge tires spraying out billows of water.

      The driver hunched over the steering wheel concentrating on the road.

      The road might have been long and straight but he dared not let his attention wane even for a second not on a night like this, not in weather like this.

      The Peterbilt 387 Conventional was not a vehicle that forgave lapses in concentration.

      Jim Peterson had been driving big rigs most of his adult life and he knew his 4 year old rig was well looked after, but in a wet rainy night, a slight twitch could send the truck careening down the verge.

      He had been up for thirteen hours now, the trip far from complete.

      Leaving the depot before first light. The meat packing company had agreed to get the loading dock guys to the warehouse a few hours earlier. It was an important load for the company as well as for him.

      He still had two or three more hours to go depending on the traffic closer to the city.

      At 54 years

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