Nighttime arrived. He sat up on his bed in silence. Finally, working up his courage, he nudged the person lying on the top of the bunk bed, and said, “Hey, I have something very important to discuss; please, come this way.”
The prisoner looked at him a bit curiously. Polunk started walking up to everyone in the hut, nudging them, waking them, urging them to come and listen to him. Some people told him to “get lost;” some had even harsher words, but most people were curious about what this quiet, reserved former accountant had to say all of a sudden. Finally, there was a huddle of several hundred people all waiting to hear his important news.
“How would you guys like to make a break for it?” he asked.
Laughter broke out. It was mild at first, but like a contagious sickness it quickly spread amongst his audience. It was as if a tightly wound-up spring had finally been released. Most of these people had not so much as smiled in weeks, let alone laughed. Before long, many of them were rolling around on the floor like a group of people at the funny farm. Finally, Polunk, although he understood their reaction, could take it no more.
“THIS IS NO JOKE!!” he shouted angrily at the top of his lungs.
(yeah, that’s what Uncle Wilhelm would have done; yelled and yelled and yelled; you know how yelling leads to liking)
The laughter immediately began to die down. They were stunned. Having been around Polunk quite a bit over the last several weeks, never once had they hardly even heard him speak, much less raise his voice.
“THIS IS NOT A JOKE!!” he repeated, his face turning red with anger.
“Just hear me out! I’m not crazy! I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and a lot of observation ever since I arrived at this hellhole, and I am confident I know of a way for us to escape from this horrible place!”
People were listening now. Their laughing gas had run out. This former accountant had something to say, by Kasani.
“First of all, just let me say this: I don’t deny that attempting to escape from here will be very dangerous and may indeed result in us getting put to death. On the other hand, let me state the obvious: none of us has a chance of lasting much longer here anyway!! Our diet is atrocious, and, as you likely have noticed, anyone who starts to have a slower pace while working always ends up disappearing. I think it goes without saying they’re not magicians performing a vanishing act and they’re not being shipped away to Sodorf—they’re being slaughtered somewhere here in the camp! It might be done away from our eyes, but I’m sure I’m not the only one here who knows that is what is really going on. You’re not blind; neither am I.”
“But how could we ever even begin to make such an escape attempt practical?” asked one of the Sodorfians, who was listening intently and eagerly to what Polunk had to say; “I mean, the camp is surrounded by a tall wooden fence made out of solid oak. It is sturdy, and due to its smoothness it would be impossible to climb up it. Even if one could, the tops of the wooden pieces are carved to a sharp point, and, as if that did not make climbing the walls difficult enough, there are also razor-sharp spikes protruding from the tops of the oak pieces!!”
“Who said anything about climbing over it?!” Polunk shot back. “Listen to what I have to say before trying to rebut me! I didn’t say anything at all about climbing over the fence; I don’t intend to escape that way.”
“Well, how then?!” asked another impatient, skeptical Sodorfian; “Please don’t tell me you’re going to suggest we try to tunnel our way out. Think about how foolish that would be: It would take months before we could even begin to get a tunnel long enough to get us out of this camp. Most of us will probably not even survive here that long if we’re lucky. Just think about how tired and sluggish our work during the day will be if we spend our nights digging underneath the ground like rodents! We’ll disappear within a week!! We—”
“Did I say anything about tunnels?” Polunk asked impatiently. “No, I didn’t. Here is the answer,” he said and pulled out the rock that was covered with pheorite.
One of the Sodorfians simply couldn’t resist. “Oh, I see the ingenious plot now: You’re going to climb outside your cabin at night, throw your rock at one of the guards, knock him unconscious, and then, once the other guards see how tough you are, they’re gonna run for cover! Or, better yet, maybe they’ll simply hand the camp over to you and surrender!!” he said mockingly.
He laughed and so did the other Sodorfians. It felt good to laugh. For a fleeting moment they had thought Polunk might have really come up with an ingenious idea and maybe really did still have all his marbles. That hope vanished, however, when he pulled out that pitifully small rock and said that was the solution. They didn’t hold it against him though; the camp was taking its toll on all of them, and Polunk was just another casualty, they reckoned.
“Have any of you dimwits ever heard of pheorite?!” Polunk asked in a vehement tone; “Or am I the only one here who made it through first-year chemistry?!”
The room fell silent.
They knew what pheorite was. But none had ever seen it before.
“That’s right,” he said; “this rock you’re looking at right now is smeared with pheorite. As you may know, some of the prison camp guards have utilized my knowledge of accounting to help them balance their books. With all of the rearmament going on in Dachwald, there are a lot of numbers to crunch. Although they hate me and think I’m some kind of subhuman, they don’t seem to have any qualms about taking advantage of my ability with numbers. Unfortunately for them, I happened to notice where they keep their explosives. Knowing about the sticky properties of certain forms of pheorite, yesterday when I was working I took this rock right here and put it into my pocket. When I entered into the guards’ headquarters to check their daily expenditures and saw that none of them were looking, I quickly pulled out this rock, smeared it with pheorite, and then quickly put it back into my pocket before they could see me. This little pheorite-smeared rock right here can easily blow a hole through that fence large enough for us all to run through!”
“And the noise?!” one of the Sodorfians immediately asked.
“For those of you who know even the first thing about weather, you can tell by the way the clouds were acting all day today that there is a storm coming, and it’s going to be a bad one indeed. There will likely be quite a bit of thunder, and that thunder will help to cover the noise of the explosion. Look, I know it is risky, but I also know that you have eyes; and the observations you have made with your eyes have surely told you that your odds of surviving here very long are nil. Have you not noticed how many people have ‘disappeared’? Sure you have; you’d have to be blind not to! People only last here as long as they can work hard, and as you know, the diet here is so insufficient that inevitably none of us will be able to work here at an adequate pace for more than a few more months. What will be our fate then?! We can either hope the Sodorfian army comes and rescues us before that fateful day arrives—the odds of which are not very good—or we can make a break for it! How would you like to be remembered—that is, if our people even survive the Dachwaldian scourge? Would you like to be remembered as yet another group of poor Sodorfian victims who allowed themselves to be slaughtered like lambs? Or would you rather be remembered as the Sodorfians who made a break for it—who at least tried to escape?! Let’s say we’re all caught trying to escape—then we will be remembered as those who died trying to obtain liberty! That’s not an ignominious way to die in my opinion. In fact, many of our fellow Sodorfians have already been killed here, and they won’t be remembered as heroes, but as sheep!! That’s not how I want to be remembered!! And, after all, dying while trying to escape from here is the WORST-CASE SCENARIO!! Think about that. Let’s say that we actually make it into Sodorf. We could take up arms against these Dachwaldian bastards and come back here and slay them all!!”
“YEAHHH!!!” they shouted loudly in agreement with him and then quickly hushed up for fear of alerting the guards. These last words had struck a chord. They were tired of being
pushed around.
“I’ll follow you,” said one of the Sodorfians. “I don’t want to spend another day in this hellhole; I hate it here. And if escape gives me the chance to go to Sodorf, join the army, and fight, I’ll relish the opportunity to spill the blood of these cruel, racist, Dachwaldian psychopaths!!”
“I’ll follow you!” said another. “And me,” announced another. Before long there were about thirty Sodorfians willing to follow him. All the rest, though loving the idea in theory, were simply too scared and figured their odds of survival would be better if they stayed in the camp and followed the rules.
“Okay,” said Polunk, “we’ll wait until the big storm comes. I believe it’ll come tomorrow night, but we’ll see. I’m honored so many of you are willing to trust me on this. I think we have a chance of making this escape work. I stole a map in the guards’ headquarters, and this will show us how to get to Sodorf from here. I’ve been paying very close attention to it, and I think I’ve found the best way for us to make it to Sodorf without being apprehended. We’ll avoid all major roads and heavily populated areas. We’ll do our best to avoid running across any guard patrols, but of course I can’t make any promises on that—I forgot to ask the guards for a copy of a map showing all their patrol areas,” he said chuckling, and the rest of the Sodorfians laughed with him— at least those that were going to attempt to escape. Those that had decided against it considered this no laughing matter. They believed within a few days all of these plotters would be publicly executed to show the horrible consequences awaiting those who dared defy the rules. They weren’t looking forward to watching it but figured watching it was better than receiving it.
“We’ll travel only by night,” Polunk continued. “Traveling during the day is out of the question. Too dangerous. I know there are a million things that could go wrong, but in regards to that, I can only repeat what I’ve already said: better to risk death and live valiantly than submit to tyranny. There are millions of problems that could arise during this escape, and there’s really no way to plan for all of them. We have no weapons, but even if we did, we must avoid confrontation at all costs. Confrontation would mean detection, and we’ll never make it to Sodorf if we get into a confrontation with the Vechengschaft. Any questions?”
The Sodorfians shook their heads. They knew he was right. This was their only chance of survival; they had to go for it.
He smiled lightly. Not too bad for an accountant. Not too bad. He could almost see Uncle Wilhelm smiling in approval.
Sure enough, the next day brought pouring rain. It started out slowly, but by evening, it was coming down so hard you’d think the heavens themselves were cracking open. Lightning flashed everywhere like quick strikes of a snake, and claps of thunder rolled slowly and powerfully like a series of big, gradual explosions. Several trees around the camp were blown to smithereens.
Polunk lay fully awake in his bed. His mind was running wild like a stallion trying to escape a deadly maze.
(are you going to make it through this, or is this the end of the road, ol’ buddy?)
(why do the Dachwaldians want you to escape? what’s their angle? what’s in it for them?)
One new possibility he considered was perhaps the Vechengschaft wanted the Sodorfians in Sodorf to see these bruised and battered Sodorfians in order that they would be stirred to anger and launch an attack. But the more he pondered that possibility, the more impractical it seemed.
(surely the Sodorfians are already well aware of the horrors going on here; awareness can’t be the issue)
But the devil’s advocate was back with an annoying vengeance: Perhaps it’s to demoralize them. If they see the way the Dachwaldians are treating Sodorfians, perhaps the Sodorfians will think they had better come to their senses and surrender or else they’ll be next.
Perhaps the Sodorfians had already invaded Dachwald; there was simply no way to know.
Then his mind returned to the stalking exercise he had previously considered but with a slightly different twist.
(perhaps it’s all a trick and they are using you for some experiment, like training their men in stalking and ambush tactics and this will be their first hands-on experience)
He could see the practicality of that. Maybe they were going to see if they could cut all of their throats in the middle of the night without being detected—it would make a great training exercise.
(you have to deviate from the route they’ve given you; you’ve got to find another route to Sodorf)
This voice came from nowhere. He didn’t know why it was casting this vote, but his gut told him to trust it. Trust it like an old friend.
And it was possible too. After all, he was pretty familiar with this part of Dachwald because he had traveled through it many times on business trips
(but even if they are planning on hunting you and your fan club down as part of a training mission, it might still hold true that they have a genuine interest in you not crossing paths with Dachwaldian citizens and Vechengschaft patrols; maybe the path he has laid out for you WILL bypass them)
This confused the matter all the more: It seemed almost guaranteed that Feiklen had some nefarious purpose behind this escap; on the other hand, if he deviated from the directions that Feiklen gave him on the map, he would possibly get lost or run into a Vechengschaft patrol. He knew their odds of surviving a physical confrontation would be nil, given their lack of weapons and lack of know-how in the combat department. They knew as much about fighting as a horse knows about playing the violin. They had been farmers, bookkeepers, artisans—not exactly the kinds of professions where you carried a sword around ready to chop someone’s head off, although he had had a few clients that made him wish he did—along with permission to use it as needed.
(maybe the training exercise involves stalking you until you reach the border and then attacking you)
The idea had come from the nether regions of his mind, but it seemed to make sense. It would give them the advantage of being able to practice stalking without being observed, as well as ambushing and killing. Also, if their egos were anywhere near the size he suspected, they would probably get a particularly devilish satisfaction out of slaughtering them all right before they reached the border.
(perhaps if you follow the path Feiklen laid out for you throughout most of the journey, you’ll gain his trust and then . . . .)
He was particularly curious about whether or not Feiklen and his goons would allow them to get one day ahead before tracking them. It would be a more realistic exercise that way. After mulling this over for a while, it seemed all the more plausible; furthermore, he could see how such exercises would be beneficial for the Dachwaldians if they invaded Sodorf, which, he had no doubt, was their ultimate aim. If this were true and the Vechengschaft would always be one day behind them, this meant he could follow the course every night up until the last night, and then suddenly break from it on the last night of travel and outrun the Vechengschaft. After all, it would be harder for them to track Polunk and his fellow escapees if they went off course. He figured what the Dachwaldians probably had in mind was to allow them to be one day ahead up until they started getting really close to the border, then, quicken their pace on the second-to-last night, catch up with them on the last night, and have some extra troops posted around the border as a sort of insurance to keep them from escaping.
Enough analysis, he thought. His head was starting to hurt from it.
He got out of bed and went to each of the bunks of those coming with him. He was not surprised to see that none of them were asleep. After all, who could sleep on a night as noisy as this? Who could sleep on the night when one was going to be escaping from a place as hellish as this? It was scary, yet exciting. After gathering all those that were coming, a few more people came forward and said, “We’ve been thinking about what you were saying, and we’ve realized that you were right. After all, what do we have to lose by trying to escape from this hellhole?!”
Polunk sm
iled. “Come on,” he said warmly.
They opened the door and stepped outside. The storm was unbelievable. Within seconds they were as wet as if they had fallen into the ocean and been doused by a large wave. The sheer volume of water descending from the heavens and the powerful wind whipping it about like leaves in a tornado nearly made Polunk feel like he was out at sea during a dangerous storm. Normally, the large fence surrounding the extermination camp was lit by a series of ominous-looking torches that sent eerie reflections off into the darkness. Tonight, however, there were no torches lit. None could remain lit on account of the rain. As they surreptitiously walked, hunched over, alongside the prison huts, a terrifying thought snuck up on him like an attack from the rear: What if the actual purpose of this was simply to see how vigilant the guards were?!! Maybe they had never been instructed on his upcoming escape at all, much less been instructed to allow it to happen!
The idea hit him like a ton of bricks.
All this time his worrying had been confined to what the purpose of allowing the escape was; never had it even crossed his mind that perhaps this was all an intricate way for Feiklen to simply test his guards. Maybe there was already, outside the camp, a large group of Feiklen’s best soldiers just waiting to slaughter all of them in case they escaped, after which they would then publicly and grotesquely execute all the guards that had negligently allowed it to happen. He nearly soiled himself as these thoughts crept through his head.
How could I not have thought of that?!! he asked himself silently, terrified of the possible consequences of this oversight.
“Is something wrong?” one of the escapees asked him quietly, unnerved by the sudden hesitance being displayed by the man who up until now had been their sole source of inspiration.
“I’m fine,” he said to the Sodorfian, and then, under his breath, he said, “Ah, Uchinweld, why in Kasani am I worrying about death while I am in an extermination camp already?!!!”
And he pressed onward.
Rise of Dachwald (Boxed Set, Books 1 through 2) Page 25