hid behind a retaining wall. Ray held his breath, he was a mere meter or two from whoever this was. The light flashed again. The arm was skinny, like that of a child, with a thick keloid scar wrapped around it like a snake.
A crow cawed from a nearby tree, and the figure stepped forward. Ray ducked and froze. It was probably the night guard signalling the coast guard. He’d read somewhere that breeding farms worked in conjunction with conservation West Coast to protect the sea life. But his instincts told him to stay out of sight regardless.
Ray re-entered the room as his alarm buzzed on the table beside him. It was the dawn of a new day—the first of his new life and he was ready for it.
“Hey Cyril, it’s time to get up, man,” he called to his roomie, who raised a hand and waved him away.
Showered and dressed in his work uniform, which consisted of a pair of khaki cargo pants, work boots, and a button-up shirt with a starched collar and the Redemption Farm logo embroidered on its pocket, Ray followed the inmates to the mess hall for breakfast.
“Right, you will find a list pinned to the notice board at the back of the hall. This will tell you where you’re allocated to work for the week. On the table beneath, you’ll find some maps of the farm. Take one each and use it to navigate your way around the place. This means there is no excuse not to be on time.” Mr Meintjies welcomed them with his demands. “Lunch is at twelve-thirty sharp, after which you will all remain in the hall to attend your first group therapy session,” he informed them before turning on his heel and leaving them to their meals.
Ray finished his porridge then went to check the list and collect a map. According to the allocations, his job for the week would be to shadow one of the workers in checking that the environment for growing abalone was perfect.
Collecting a printed sheet from the pile on the table below the board, Ray turned and made his way out.
Stepping into the sticky humidity from the mess-hall, Ray turned his map this way and that, he needed to go to building 2A. Before lay the ocean, behind him the dining hall and he should…
A distant whinny caused him to stop and look up. The house was farther away from where he stood compared to their compound, but he could still make out the form of a young girl sitting astride a pony at the edge of the hill which met the beach. Long blond hair twisted and fluttered in the ocean breeze as she curled her bare legs and feet around the horse’s belly.
“Le Roux! You’ve no business standing around. Move your blerrie arse or start running,” Ben bellowed from the entrance of a nearby building.
“Yes, sir.” Raymond nodded and returned to finding building 2A.
He glanced back. The girl was gone, but not the strange sense of recognition which had settled in his centre at the sight of her.
The siren for lunch sounded. It reminded Ray of a school lockdown drill. That was yonks ago. A time when he’d had dreams and … love. Ray shook the memories from his head as he removed his work gloves and placed them with his protective goggles, apron, and gumboots in their allocated area. He’d spent the first hour in a room behind a desk being educated on what abalone was, and how Redemption artificially bred the much sought-after sea snail both for sale across the globe and to reintroduce to the ocean.
He’d sat through what he’d thought was a helluva interesting lecture on how a man up in Gauteng had found a way to create real seawater. Who’d have thought it was so intricate and how important the foam formed on the surface of the ocean was to marine life? And this man had managed to replicate it to perfection.
Once the lecture was done, he’d been taken to the warehouse and ordered to clean tanks. While the task was menial, Ray had relished the numbing actions of scrubbing, rinsing, and repeating.
After pushing his socked feet into his work boots, he washed his hands and made his way out the back entrance toward the mess hall. His stomach growled. He was looking forward to some good nosh.
“Definitely not chookie grub, eh.” Cyril lifted his plate and licked. Ray smiled, stood, and grabbed his tray.
Ray scraped the