“Let me be the judge,” I said rashly. Raised and drank, lowered the flask and retched dryly. “I think …” I gasped, and my voice was so harsh my words were almost indistinguishable. “I think that that—is the foulest thing I have ever drunk in—a lifetime of drinking foul beverages.”
“Thank you. Now if you will pass it over.”
It did not get any better with more drinking. But at least the ethyl alcohol began to take effect, which possibly made the entire exercise worthwhile.
“I can put some of the pieces together,” he said, then wiped his finger across the coating on his teeth that the drink had deposited. “We had a guy here once, very briefly, with a big mouth. Said that he had helped repair the rollers in a pulverizing mill someplace. He thought that they were grinding up our rock.”
“Did he say why?”
“No—and he was gone next day. He talked too much. That’s why we have to be careful. I don’t know who or what is listening—”
“I know who. Slakey in one of his manifestations. He has this rock dug out here, then it is sent somewhere. Then it is ground up, then sent to the women who sort it and take something out of it.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what—except that it is terribly expensive. In money and in human lives.”
“I’m sure of it. And we won’t find the answer here. I want out of this place and I need help.”
What music to my ears! I seized his hand and pummeled him on the back with joy. “You have a plan?” .
“An idea. I don’t think we can get out the way we came in. Through that barred room.” I nodded agreement.
“That is undoubtedly a dimensional doorway operated by Slakey himself. But what other way is there to go? I have looked carefully and could not see any way to climb out of this valley. And even if we did—where would we go? This might be a barren planet at the end of the universe.”
“I agree completely. Which leaves only the other way. Think for yourself—”
“Of course. The broken rock goes into the pit. We go with it and are crushed to death, right?”
“Wrong. I have been working on this for a long, long time. But I needed someone to help me—”
“I’m your man,” I said. Slightly blurrily.
“Back to work,” he said, climbing swayingly to his feet. “Gotta finish repairs first.”
Work had a sobering effect and no more was said that day. An electric bell summoned Buboe who opened the large locked door that opened to the outside. I shivered and stamped my feet while Berkk drove the Model 91 out and parked it there. The door was sealed again and Buboe unlocked the other door that led us back to our quarters. And searched us ruthlessly before letting us out.
There was a backlog of repairs needed on the machines and we had plenty to do. Slowly. I would be back as a driver as soon as the job was complete. And Berkk never spoke again about his plan. I did not want to ask, figuring that it was his idea and he would know when the time was right. Life was work and sleep, work and sleep—with loathsome meals ingested briefly between. Berkk remained silent until the day when we were finishing the job of replacing a wheel on a bucketbil. We lay side by side beneath the thing, one holding, one hammering.
“This is the last repair you are going to do,” he said. “Buboe says he is shorthanded and wants you back on the digging. I’ve been putting this off but we can’t put it off anymore. You ready to go?” he asked. I did not ask where.
“Yes. When?”
“Now.” He turned to look at me and I saw that his face was suddenly grim. “Have you ever killed a man?” he asked.
“Why? Is it important?”
“Very. If we are to go, then Buboe will have to be disarmed, maybe killed. I’m not much of a fighter—”
“I am. I’ll take care of him. And hopefully not kill him. Then what?”
“Then these. We must get them into this bucketbil and out of here without being seen.”
He kicked a tarpaulin aside, let the worklight play over them for an instant, then covered them again.
They were two frames made of rebar. They were shaped like coffins and were the same size as coffins. The finger-thick lengths of reinforcing bar were closely placed and crossed at right angles, then had been welded into place to form the cages. One side of each cage was hinged so it could be opened. Open this and crawl in. Close and turn the latch. Then—what he planned was obvious.
“Is this the only way?” I asked.
“Do you know of another?”
“It’s suicide.”
“It’s certain death here if we don’t try.”
“We go into the hopper with the crushed rock, then through to—somewhere.”
I took a deep breath, then let it out in a long, slow sigh.
“Let’s do it,” I finally said. “The quicker the better because I don’t want to have time to think about it, or estimate our chances to get out alive instead of being pulverized.”
CHAPTER 19
THIS WAS THE LAST BUCKETBIL in need of repair. We stretched the work out as long as we dared. Knowing that when it went back to work—so would I. In the rockpit. Before that happened we had to make our break together. One man could not do it alone.
All our preparations for escape had been made long since. It was just the idea of getting crushed along with the rest of the rocks that had been holding us back. I ran the file over the protruding bolthead. Stepped back to admire my work—then threw the tool onto the ground.
“Let’s do it—and quick.”
Berkk hesitated a moment, then nodded grim agreement. I dug into the scrap pile and found the cosh that I had made. I pulled its strap onto my wrist and slipped the thing up my sleeve. It was just a plastic tube filled with ball bearings but would surely do the job.
Berkk looked at me and I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile and a thumbs-up. He wheeled about and stabbed the button that would summon our keeper.
Who was very slow about arriving. Undoubtedly involved in some other sordid task. Minutes slipped by and I saw the beads of perspiration form on Berkk’s forehead—even though the workshop was chill.
“Press it again,” I said. “Maybe he didn’t hear it the first time.”
Again. And a third time. I slammed the cosh against my palm, testing it. Behind me the door rattled open and I just had time to get it back up my sleeve again as Buboe appeared.
“What you ring so much for?”
“Finished,” Berkk said, slapping the metal flank of the bucketbil.
“Take out,” Buboe said, turning his key in the lock. Cold wind blew in and he turned to glare at me. “You out of here. Go work.” He continued to stare at me, his back to the bucketbil, slapping the bioclast against his trouser leg.
“Sure, whatever you say.” I smiled insincerely instead of screaming.
This was not going right. He was supposed to be looking at Berkk so I could work my will upon him without getting a bioclast blast at full power. Behind him I could see Berkk climbing up the ladder and dropping into the control seat. The motor hammered and burst into life. And our captor still stared at me. And stepped forward.
“Out, go,” he commanded. Lifting the bioclast towards me.
The bucketbil’s engine idled roughly and died.
“Something’s very wrong here,” Berkk called out, staring down in horror.
We stayed that way as long seconds ticked by. The bioclast waving before me, the brute’s eyes fixed on mine, Berkk clutching the steering wheel not knowing what else to do.
Luckily our thuggish warder’s brain was incapable of entertaining two thoughts at one time. When the meaning of Berkk’s words finally penetrated, he turned around.
“What happen?”
“This,” I said, released from frightened paralysis, taking a single step forward. The cosh dropped into my hand, I swung—
—and he dropped heavily to the ground. I raised the cosh again but he lay, unmoving. Not stirring even when I pried the
weapon from his grip.
“Let’s do it!” I shouted, pulling the tarpaulin from off our horde.
Berkk lifted the first rebar cage and heaved it up into the bucket. I used the prepared lengths of wire to bind the unconscious man, ankles and wrists, then wired his legs and arms one to the other. He could untwist the wire when he came around, but it would take time. While we, hopefully, would be long gone. I tied the gag into his mouth and dragged him back just as Berkk was heaving up the second cage. I pulled the tarp over the bound man and straightened up. Berkk had the big outer door partly open, held it that way as I clambered up the side of the machine and dropped into the bucket.
“Anyone out there?” I asked as he got into the driver’s seat.
“No machines, no one in sight.” He started the engine again and I could see his hands trembling.
“Slowly now, take your time. A deep breath, that’s it. Now—go! And don’t forget that you have to close the door once we’re outside!”
The way he had revved the engine told me that he had forgotten the next step, driven now by panic and not intelligence. But having been reminded, he now did just as we had planned. Drove out through the door and stopped. Kicked the thing out of gear and locked the brakes. Climbed slowly to the ground and closed the workshop door. “Locked,” he said as he climbed back up again.
As we drove into the darkness, I pulled myself up so I could look over the lip of the bucket. Lights and trundling machines were working in the open pit ahead.
“Did you … did you kill him?” Berkk asked.
“Far from it. Skull like rock. He’ll have a headache—”
“And we’ll be gone. There’s a bucketbil dumping right now.”
“Only one?”
“Yes.”
“Go slower, take the long way. Don’t get there until it’s gone.”
We slowed and rumbled on; I ducked back down as headlights washed over us. Moments later we stopped. The engine died but the headlights stayed on, illuminating the black bulk of the hopper.
“Let’s go!” he shouted and jumped to the ground.
I realized I was still holding the bioclast. I threw it far out into the hopper and it vanished from sight. Then I heaved the first cage up and over the side onto the ground, bent and dragged up the other one. It followed the first and I went right after it.
We had planned this, step by step. And as long as we kept moving we did not have to think about what the last and final step was going to be. Berkk had clambered up onto the wide lip of the hopper, turned and reached down and grabbed the first cage when I pushed it up to him. Then the other. Only when I had climbed up beside him did I see that he was shaking from head to toe.
“Can’t—do it!” He gasped, sat down and put his arms over his head. Beyond him I saw the sudden flare of approaching headlights.
“Too late to go back!” I shouted as I scrabbled at the steel frame and pulled the door open. “Get in!”
“No … ,” He pulled back. I balled a fist and hit him on the jaw. Not enough to knock him unconscious—I hoped!—but enough to addle his thoughts.
It worked. I hauled his limp body into the cage and was closing the sealing hasp when he began screaming and tearing at me through the bars.
“Keep your hands inside!” I shouted as I kicked the cage off the ledge. It rattled down into the hopper and vanished from sight.
Now—could I do that to myself?
“Good enough for him, Jim. It better be good enough for you,”
Easy enough to say; harder to do. I opened the hinged side and looked down into the cage. It was like looking into a rebar coffin.
I don’t know how long I stood like that, unable to move, unable to commit myself to the destiny I had so easily tipped my partner into.
Headlights washed over me. “Bowb!” I grimaced between grated teeth. Dropped down, crawled in, locked the gate. Took a very deep breath.
Reached through the bars to grab the edge. Pulled myself over.
Dropped into darkness.
As we go through life we should learn from experience. Some of us never do. I have done a number of foolhardy and very dangerous things in my lifetime. One would think that I would have learned by experience. I never have. I cursed loudly as my cage banged and clattered down the wall, held tight to the inside handles.
The banging stopped and I was in free fall. I clung tight, bent my knees and braced my feet against the bars—and waited for the inevitable impact. There was the twisting interuniversely feeling and a red glow appeared suddenly below, grew brighter. I was falling into a furnace!
Panic possessed me. My heart began to beat like a triphammer and I knew this was the end. A mound of blackness suddenly slammed into the cage with almost deadly impact.
There would have been no almost with that deadly if the broken rock had not heaped itself into a conical pile.
Pain burst hard upon my body as the cage hit the piled rock at an angle, bounced and slithered down. More pain in my side as a rock point stabbed in between the bars. Clattering and banging, sliding, finally thudding to a stop.
I had to move, but I couldn’t. The next load of rock would fall on top of me, crushing and entombing me. If I didn’t get out now I never would.
With trembling fingers I pulled at the lock bar of the door. It would not move, had been bent inwards by the impact. Panic helped. I grabbed it with both hands, pulled and twisted with all my strength. Heard the roar of falling stone above me.
Pulled it free. Threw the door open and crawled out. Clambered across the broken surface as lumps of rock rolled by around me. One bounced off my leg, felling me. I crawled on. Until I noticed that the boulders were now moving out from under me, carrying me forward. There was just enough ruddy light to see that a wide, moving belt was carrying the rock—and me—to an unknown destination. Not a good one I was sure. Stumbling and falling I made my way to the edge, dropped off it onto the solid ground.
“Berkk!” I shouted. Where was he?
He was not being carried off with the crushed rock that I could see. But perhaps he had landed and bounced in a different direction, had gone down the pyramid of broken stone at a different place?
I was staggering, not walking. My leg still numb, a sharp pain in my side when I moved. Falling and climbing to my feet again and going on.
When I fell next time I grabbed a bar instead of stone to lever myself to my feet.
Bar?
I pulled and tore at the rocks over the half-buried cage until I uncovered his face. Still and pale. Dead? I had no time to stop and find out because the rocks around the cage were churning and beginning to move. I hurled lumps of stone aside until I uncovered the gate that I had closed such a very long time ago. By pure chance it was on top. If it had not been he would have gone on to certain death because I did not have the strength to turn it over.
In fact, I hadn’t even the strength to pull him out once I had grabbed the gate open.
I had my hands under his shoulders, pulling. Nothing happened. He was too heavy, too tightly wedged. I exerted all my strength once again—and he still didn’t move. I had to let go or we would both be in the rock crusher.
Then I felt him stir.
“Berkk, you miserable bastard!” I screamed into his ear. “Push with your feet. Try. Or you have had it. Push!”
In the end he did. I kept pulling as he pushed against the imprisoning bars—untit he tumbled out of the cage and fell on top of me. After that we crawled, on all fours, because that was all we were able to do. Across the lacerating rock surface until we were free of it. Went on until we had stumbled over the last of the boulders. Collapsed onto the ground.
Under the reddish glow his blood looked black—and there was a lot of it on his pale, filthy face. His clothing was torn, his skin cut and abraded. But he was alive. We both were.
“Do I look as bad as you do—?” I asked, my voice grating and rough with dust, ending in a coughing fit.
“Worse,” was
all he managed to say.
I looked up at the pyramid of rock down which we had tumbled, as high as a mountain it seemed. By all rights we should have been dead.
But it was done. We were out.
“Let us not do that again,” I said with some feeling.
“We won’t have to. Because—we did it! We’re away from the mine and we’re never going back.”
CHAPTER 20
I GENTLY TOUCHED MY RIBS and yelped. “Sore, maybe broken—but there is nothing we can do about it now. And you?”
Berkk had climbed slowly to his feet and was hobbling painfully. “The same, I guess. I hurt from all that banging about. I panicked, didn’t I?”
“It can happen to anyone.”
“It didn’t happen to you. You got me into the cage and into the pit—and got yourself into it as well.”
“Let’s say that I have had more experience at this kind of thing—so don’t let it bother you. Most important is what do we do next?”
“Whatever you say we should do. You saved my life and I owe you—”
“But you saved mine when you tripped the thug who was trying to brain me. So we are even. Right?”
“Right. But you still decide what we should do now. Maybe I made the rebar cages, but it was you who made the plan work. What’s next?”
I looked around. “Find out where we are, and try to do it without being seen. I have had more than enough excitement for one day.”
We walked beside the moving belt, trying to look ahead into the red-lit darkness. A distant rumbling grew louder as we went. We passed one of the glowing pits that provided the feeble illumination and I looked into it. It was filled with a liquid, maybe water, and the glow was coming from the bottom. I dropped in a piece of rock. It splashed nicely then slowly vanished from sight as it went under. Another mystery, but not one of any great importance at the moment.
“Lights ahead,” Berkk said, and so there were. White for a change—and they were on our side of the rumbling, moving belt.
“Wrong side,” I said. “I would prefer to be in the dark when investigating. Think you can climb over this thing?”
The Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell Page 17