Page 28 of The Reformatory

“The freezer,” Redbone said. “They put it in a year back. Zero degrees.”

Again Robert thought of a spaceship as he saw the foggy interior. He had never imagined a freezer so big, yawning open to nothing except slowly swirling fog.

“I’m not goin’ in there,” Robert said. His heart was awake again, thumping.

“We’ll go first,” Troy said. “Chicken.”

“Just don’t touch nothin’,” Redbone said. “Come on.”

After Redbone took a few steps inside the freezer, he was wrapped in fog. Troy was huskier, just past Redbone’s shoulder, both of them already less visible. Without wanting to, Robert wondered if he could beat either one of them in a fight, much less both together. He stood in the doorway wanting to turn around and run away. The fog shrouded the shelves inside from view, and Redbone and Troy had vanished within it.

“Keep the door open some,” Redbone called back, but Robert had thought of that: he’d left the freezer door wide open so he could back out fast. And so someone could hear him if he yelled. He watched and waited to see if the door would fall closed by itself on a hinge, but it was fixed in place. Firm to his touch.

The fog was clearing as it seeped out of the open doorway. He could make out crates on shelves now. Robert wasn’t as nervous once he could see more than five feet through the misty gray. He took tentative steps behind Redbone and Troy, then sped to catch up.

The freezer was crammed with packed shelves, but Robert looked up and saw a giant hook. A row of them.

“Come on—faster,” Redbone said.

Robert’s feet kept their pace against his will. His eyes were grabbing what they could see in the thinning fog. A row of hooks on either side, spaced apart. Robert noticed how cold he was: his earlobes stinging, the air too cold to breathe. Yes, it was like a trip on a spaceship, and they had landed in a frigid new world.

Redbone and Troy were laughing. Robert turned to know what they had seen.

A grown man, large and dark, was swinging back and forth between them on the hook in the fog as they took turns hurtling themselves against him with all their strength. The hook squealed under its burden with every swing, but the man was frozen solid. Robert thought of Papa’s stories about Claude Neal swinging from a tree.

Robert’s breath was trapped in his throat. He nearly vomited up his supper. “You see this?” Redbone said, grinning.

The fog stopped its tricks against his eyes, and Robert saw that the two boys were playing with a frozen side of beef, that was all. Another identical one hung on the hook behind them. The carcass was long, probably a hundred pounds or more; it would be taller than him even set on the floor—stubby, gristled legs pinned together to the hook. The slab of meat spun lazily between Redbone and Troy, smooth and white with fat on one side, thick curved ribs red and raw on the other. A snake of exposed bones stretched from its severed neck to its flank.

“You said… you said… not to touch nothin’,” Robert said. Redbone had seemed so sensible before, at least compared to Blue, but the danger in the freezer pulsed like a snake that might strike. Robert didn’t like the door being out of his sight. The cold was terrible, chewing at his skin. And what if the meat fell from its hook? How could they lift it back up?

“Naw… you right,” Redbone said, hugging the beef closer to stop its swinging. “We just wanted to show you. You might never see all this meat again yo’ whole life.”

“Sometimes they got more,” Troy said. “Hangin’ all up and down here.”

The meat looked only dead to Robert, like it should be buried at Boot Hill. The cold was making his heart thump louder. Robert rubbed his arms, which prickled to his touch. “We got curfew, right?”

Redbone shrugged. “We got plenty of time ’til—”

Then, a WHUMP sound. The air felt sucked out of the room. Robert’s hurting ear ached with the pop. Redbone and Troy were yelling and running toward the door before Robert heard the lock click into place with a final scrape and snap.

“Quit playin’!” Redbone pounded against the metal. “Open this goddamn door!” Troy was crying, banging the door with his fist beside Redbone.

Robert watched them, unable to move, thinking maybe the day was only a bad dream. He’d had that feeling since Mama died, always expecting to wake up and discover she was still alive, and maybe this was a part of the same nightmare—starting with the courthouse, ending in this frozen death house.

“Is there another door?” Robert said, hoping. His voice was so soft that no one heard. His teeth were clicking together. “Is… th-there…”

The cold was another kind of fire. His skin was burning.

“You open this goddamn door or I’ll break your head open!” Redbone yelled.

Troy jumped up and down as he cried, “Who is it? Who locked it?”

But there was no window in the door, so they could only see their muddy reflections. “Blue, that better not be you!” Redbone said.

Robert finally went closer to the door to listen. “Blue?” All they heard was the freezer’s hum.

“What if it’s Cleo?” Robert said.