by Rob J. Hayes
"You. Betrayed. Me." I bit off each word, turning each one into a damning insult. Then I turned and limped out of the cavern. No one followed me.
I found Tamura right where I'd left him, staring up at the breeze gusting from a crack in the rock. He nodded to me as I staggered into the tunnel, and just watched as I collapsed against a nearby wall. I think he was still watching me as I closed my eyes and finally let the darkness claim me.
That was the first time in years I hadn't slept with Josef curled up next to me. And it was the first time since we met, so many years ago, that one of us had chosen not to sleep next to the other. It wasn't until the next day that I realised I hadn't told him about my hope of escape.
Chapter 15
When I woke, Tamura was gone. I found myself covered with a patchy blanket. It's a strange sensation, waking up in total darkness. We spend so much of our lives in the light that when it is taken away, we lose all semblance of time. I might have been asleep for a few hours, or a week. All I really knew is that I was still tired. Well, that and I ached all over and my stomach felt like a portal to the Other World trying to devour me from the inside.
I like to think I'm quick to rise, even in my advancing years, but I was not that day. I struggled to stretch out my legs and arms, wincing at the tightness in the muscles. My rib was a special kind of pain and it made every movement feel like it was cracking all over again. After a while, I risked touching my cheek and found it painful and swollen, but it did not burn with new pain at the slightest touch. For that I am grateful. An ugly scar marring my face is one thing, but I imagine it would have been far worse had infection settled in.
I fumbled my way out of the tunnel, leaning against the wall and letting my memory guide me. I tripped a few times, and each time I worried that I might not be able to stand again, such was the effort it was costing me. There was light at the end of the tunnel, a lantern lit and hanging from a wall of the corridor. There were no other scabs about, the area long since abandoned for tunnels further below. I was glad of that.
Like an old hound set in its ways I found myself heading towards my team's tunnel, soon realizing I had no idea what time it was. No idea if our shift had started or not. I arrived to find the tunnel deserted. Instead of turning away, I moved further in. A lantern hanging from the wall bounced light off something wet near the end. Something dark and shiny. I knew it was blood. I knew it! But I had to see it. No matter how much my gut twisted and I wanted to turn and run, I had to see it. I had to know what my defiance had cost. And who had paid the price.
I don't know how long I spent staring down at the pool of blood on the tunnel floor. It was fresh. Still wet. It hadn't been there the day before. The day I stood up to Prig. The day I put a blade in his fat fucking neck. I didn't know whose blood it was, but I knew whose fault it was. I had done this, and it turned all my little victories the day before to ash. Prig could no longer take his anger out on me, but Deko's protection didn't extend far. Just like any bully when robbed of one victim, he took his frustration out on another. There is no give in a bully like Prig, no quit, no words you can say that will reveal some hidden good within them. He was a hateful, spiteful waste of shit, and that was all he was. All he would ever be. It's easy to believe that everyone can be redeemed if only given a chance. It's shit. There are people in this world who are beyond redemption, beyond compassion, and beyond fucking reason. I had fought my way free of Prig, and the bastard had murdered someone to make himself feel better, even if only for a moment. People like that don't even deserve a chance to redeem themselves. Bastards like Prig only deserve death, preferably by the most painful fucking method possible.
I wondered if the blood was Hardt's or Isen's. Which of my two friends were dead? There was no surviving losing that much blood. A new tightness formed in my chest, coiling its way around my heart. One of them was dead and it was my fault. Prig might have wielded the weapon, but I pushed him into it. A traitorous part of me hoped it wasn't Isen, and I hated that part. To wish it wasn't one, was to hope that it was the other. An impossible situation, an impossible choice, but of course my foolish young heart lurched towards the brother I was attracted to.
There was a pick nearby, a length of wood with a metal spike fixed to the end. There was blood on the pick, dried into a rusty-brown smear. I wasn't thinking clearly. It was against the rules to steal tools from a tunnel. But I no longer cared. I grabbed hold of the pick and limped from the tunnel, dragging its point along the floor behind me.
I passed a scab on the way out, an older woman grey of hair and missing most of her teeth. She didn't even seem to notice I was carrying a pick. She stared at me with a smile and nodded as I passed. I didn't know it then, but I was now infamous down in the Pit. The tale of how I walked into the Hill and stood up to Deko was spreading like a plague. No matter how untrue it might be, it was spreading. Rumours are like water spilt onto a flat surface. The more they spread, the bigger they get, and the thinner they become. Before long the other scabs were talking about my epic fight with Horralain and how I knocked him down to get to Deko. I did better in the rumours of that fight than I did with both our subsequent encounters. Despite it all, I can't hate Horralain. I have too much respect for the evil fucker.
After appropriating a lantern from a wall, I made my way back to the crack. Tamura was still nowhere to be seen. I placed both the pick and the lantern at the far end of the tunnel, blew out the lantern and covered them both with Tamura's blanket. After that, I groped my way from the tunnel and set my feet towards the main cavern. I had no idea if it was feeding time or not, but there would be food for the winning over dice, chips, or cards, and I needed to eat. My stomach was a churning voice of aches and pain.
Feeding time was almost over at the Trough. I heard the whispers as I approached and saw faces turn my way. At the time, I wondered how beaten up I looked. I wondered how it could be any worse than the previous day. But I didn't care. All the staring from all the scabs in the world wouldn't have kept me from my meagre rations of bread and gruel. My stomach rumbled and clenched at the thought of food and I limped forward, not even bothering to wonder why the scant crowd was parting before me.
The captain serving food to the scabs more than made up for my lack of interest in the attitude of the others. He looked at me in disgust, one eyebrow raised and a small smile tugging at his lips. I still didn't care. I reached up, accepted my food, and turned toward the tables.
Isen was standing in front of me, staring at me. In that moment I forgot everything, no longer caring we were standing in line at the Trough or even that every scab in the cavern was watching. I stepped forward and put my arms around him, leaning my head against his chest and holding him tight.
I honestly can't recall which of us pulled away from that embrace, only that I felt Isen begin to stiffen against my hip and then we were apart. He flushed red, and then so did I. I tried to hide my embarrassment by walking past him, as much to get away from the stares and whispers than anything else.
My mouth was already full of stale bread as I sat down at a table across from Hardt. My happiness at seeing both brothers alive was not diminished by the need to devour my rations, but hunger can put even the most powerful of emotions at the back of the mind, and once I had food in front of me I found I couldn't stop. It did not take long to demolish the bread and scoop every last drop of gruel into my mouth. I was still hungry. Always hungry.
The brothers just watched me as I ate. I think Isen was still embarrassed from our embrace. Hardt was clearly impressed with how quickly I could eat when I really wanted to.
"We were worried you might be… gone," Hardt said as I washed down the gruel with a cup of water.
"Dead?" I asked with a shake of my head. "I thought you..." I looked from Hardt to Isen and felt a fresh wave of relief wash over me. Guilt followed quickly, as it usually does. Someone had died in our tunnel. Someone had paid my price. "What happened in our tunnel?"
"You saw the blood?" H
ardt asked. I nodded, not willing to tell anyone about the pick just yet.
Try as I might, I can't remember the man's name. Sometimes I think I feel guiltier over that than his death. He died in my place, a vent for Prig's impotent frustration, and I can't even remember his name, nor what he looked like. I can't remember a thing about him other than the fact that Prig, in a fit of rage at my defiance, put the pick through the man's back. Hardt told me he took a while to die, bleeding out on the tunnel floor. Prig made the others work on, despite the man dying at their feet. I honestly can't decide if that death is on my conscience or Prig's. Actually, I don't think Prig ever had a conscience so I suppose I'll shoulder that burden as well. Just one more skull paving the road behind me. I sometimes wonder if anyone in the history of Orran or Terrelan has ever been responsible for half as much death as I am.
There was grief etched plain on the lines of Hardt's face. As sociable as the big man was, he knew everyone on our team and considered them comrades, or friends. It was clear he was hurting, though I believe he placed the blame for the death solely at the feet of Prig. Hardt has always found excuses to not blame me. Sometimes I think he still views me as an innocent little girl, but I left innocence behind long before my time in the Pit.
"Josef was distraught," Isen said, though he wasn't looking at me. I think maybe it was an issue of age that made him so embarrassed. I was just fifteen, barely old enough to call myself a woman. Isen was older. Despite that, there was something between us. I longed to see him naked, to feel his arms around me, run my hands over his skin. Attraction is a dangerous thing for a young girl.
"I don't care," I lied. I just wished I didn't care. I'm very good at holding grudges, though I always found it so hard to stay angry with Josef.
"When he woke and you weren't there, he ran off to look for you," Isen said relentless.
"Let's hope he found a hole to fall into," I said. I can be quite relentless myself when I want. And also a massive bitch.
"I don't know what you two said to each other last night," Isen said. "You might have protection from Prig, but Josef isn't protected from Lurgo, and that pig-tickler is a bastard of a foreman, too." There was true concern in his voice.
"Has he ever killed a scab?" I asked.
"No," Hardt said, his voice a low rumble. "Just likes to beat on them with that little club of his."
"Well, maybe Josef deserves a beating or two. I've got more important things to discuss with you." I lowered my voice. There were plenty of other scabs nearby, some even looking our way, and I didn't want them overhearing. "What if I had a way out of here?"
It has been my experience that there are two ways to get a man's attention. The first is to show them tits, and the second is to show them coins. Down in the Pit, things were a little different. Food was better than any amount of coin, and talk of freedom demanded attention, and the brothers already knew to take me seriously.
"No one has ever escaped the Pit," Isen said. "Everyone knows that. Heard it often enough, even when we were at sea. The other sailors used to say it as a sort of warning to us, uh, gentlemen of fortune."
Hardt nodded. "Deko and his thugs run this place, and even they know they'll never see sunlight again. The Terrelan army puts people down here to forget about them."
I grinned at them both, though it quickly turned to a wince as the wound on my cheek gave a twinge. "They put Josef and I down here to show us the error of our ways. The overseer has spent the last..." I tried to remember how long I'd been underground. Too fucking long. "Months trying to turn us."
"Well, that's good for you." Isen sounded less than pleased. "I don't think he'd be willing to let us tag along."
"I turned him down," I said. "Repeatedly. Seems yesterday he took the hint. That's why I needed Deko's protection from Prig. The overseer has given up on me."
"You have another way out?" Hardt asked.
I explained it to them. I told them about the crack, and Tamura, and the wind gusting in from above. I expected them to jump at the opportunity, to rush off and help me. Instead they looked sceptical.
"Fourteen levels above," Isen said once I had finished. "Fourteen levels of rock. That's a lot of fucking rock."
"But there's a crack..." My voice was a quiet hiss.
"A crack..." Hardt repeated. "I won't fit through a crack. You won't even fit through a crack, and you're tiny."
"So, we widen it," I said.
"With what?" Hardt sounded like he was entertaining the foolish whims of a child and I hated him for it.
I glanced around to make certain no one else was close enough to hear. "I stole a pick. We could steal more."
"And then what?" Isen asked.
"We dig," I said, incredulous the brothers were still not getting it. "Widen the fucking crack so we can fit through."
The younger brother let out an exasperated sigh. "I spend all day digging..."
"So, you'll be real fucking good at it," I hissed.
Hardt was shaking his head again. "Even if we did. It could take years."
I shrugged, and then clutched at my rib as a twinge of pain lanced through me. "Do you have something better to do with your time? Maybe another plan that will get us out?"
They were running out of arguments.
"Tamura is crazy as a two-headed bat." Isen's last ditch attempt to naysay me.
"I'm sure people said that about a scab who walked into the middle of the Hill all alone." I paused and tried out another painful smile. "I hear she came out of it alright."
The brothers shared a look and Isen shrugged. I soon came to realise that Isen almost always deferred to Hardt's judgement. It was obvious the older of the two was in charge.
"Freedom is rarely free," Hardt said. "I guess we could put in a bit of work to earn it. Wouldn't mind sleeping in a real bed again."
"A pint of ale would be nice," Isen agreed.
"A meal that isn't half blue and furry."
"Bury my face in a pair of tits." Isen froze and looked at me for the first time since we hugged back at the Trough. "Sorry."
I'd like to say the thought of Isen face deep in a pair of breasts didn't bother me. He'd certainly never have managed it with mine. However, I felt a strange pang of jealousy over the idea. I covered it with false indifference.
"Don't apologise. I'm sure a nice big pair would make for a comfortable pillow." There was more of an edge to my voice than I intended and the silence that fell across us was awkward and uncomfortable. It was a fucking stupid thing to say. Luckily, Hardt was there to break the tension.
"The least we can do is go and take a look," he said. "What about Josef?"
"I'll tell him about it next time I see him."
I didn't.
Chapter 16
Time's slow advance waged on. I didn't know it at the time, but the new year rolled around while we were underground. Year six hundred and twelve on the Orran calendar, not that the Orran calendar existed anymore. The year of the Blind Hammer Crab. I have no idea who named the years on our calendar, but they were certainly inventive. A hammer crab is a wonderful little beasty able to pulverise bones with a single punch of its claws. I can only imagine a blind hammer crab would be a true menace for all its underwater brethren.
Maybe I should have noticed a change in the temperature, the weather growing colder as the seasons moved onward, but deep down in the Pit, even the most severe changes were muted. You might think the deeper underground you dig, the colder it gets, away from the warmth of the sun. It's quite the opposite. In the bowels of the Pit was where it was warmest. Some of the deeper tunnels even filled with steam from time to time. Rather than feel the chill of winter, it was often uncomfortably warm and cloying down there.
For two weeks Isen, Hardt, myself, and Tamura all worked at the crack. We took it in turns, in groups of two. One person watching the intersection while the other hacked away to increase the size of the crack. I was always watching the intersection. I hated making the others do all the hard
work, but I could barely lift the pick with my rib still healing, let alone swing it at something overhead. It galled me to feel so fucking useless, but I had to leave the labour to the men this time.
There was a strange tension between Tamura and the brothers. It went deeper than their inability to understand most of what he said. I was starting to get a grip of his madness, and even I found myself lost half of the time. But Hardt didn't entirely trust Tamura, and if Hardt didn't trust the old man, neither did Isen. I was not very good at fostering trust between them and at the time, I didn't care. As long as they continued to work together, as long as the digging was done, they could outright hate each other and I'd be happy enough.
For two weeks neither Josef or I had spoken one word to each other. We still slept in the same little cavern, still saw each other every day, but I couldn't swallow the betrayal, or my anger. I think Josef kept his peace because he was frustrated with me. Maybe he saw my actions as a betrayal. He had his hopes of getting out of the Pit and I dashed them by refusing to dance to the overseer's sadistic, bloody tune. Josef should have known me well enough to know I would never have worked for the overseer. Defiance has always been written into my very nature. Nothing brings it out of me quite like authority.
I took to sleeping with Hardt instead. I could have slept alone. Looking back, I think we'd all have been better off if I had started sleeping alone. But I was so used to sleeping curled up with someone else, sharing warmth, and feeling safe with someone I trusted at my back. In my entire life I had never slept alone and doing so just felt strange. I was also quite aware that it twisted whatever wound Josef believed I had given to him, and I was more than happy to do just that. I admit, his betrayal had made me quite bitter and I have always been one to lash out, rather than capitulate. I think it might have made Isen a little jealous too and that was something else I enjoyed. I may have been naive in many ways, but I saw the way the younger brother looked at me. I wonder if he saw the way I looked at him. Or, more often, the way I didn't look at him.