Ruled By Fear

by C. Cervi

  “Nope,” Keith replied. “You’re not calm yet. I can still see your veins bulging.”

  “That does it,” Aaron said as he started scrambling up the rocks.

  Keith turned to run, but the steep incline made any further escape impossible. Scampering about like a frightened rabbit, he finally opted to try to slide back down. He did his best to avoid his brother, but Aaron was fast, and made a lunge for Keith’s jacket. He caught him but, in the process, the two slipped and ended up in a heap on the hard ground below. For several moments, neither brother moved.

  “Uh, Aaron,” Keith said after a moment.

  “Shut up, Keith,” he answered.

  Chapter 2

  It had taken a little more convincing, but Keith finally managed to get Aaron to agree and continue through the shortcut. Aaron didn’t know whether it was the fact that they were already a good distance inside the canyon and nothing bad had happened yet, or whether he had just hit his head too hard when he’d tumbled down the steep bank but, for some reason, the terrible sense of foreboding he had felt earlier was gone.

  Even with only the few hours of sleep they had gotten the night before and their now battered and bruised bodies, the two brothers still managed to make good time. As they rode, Aaron’s thoughts turned toward home. When his father had first sent him on this trip, suggesting he take his little brother, he’d been apprehensive, to say the least.

  Aaron remembered his father’s words. “Your brother’s getting older, and it’s time for him to learn some of the business side of running a ranch.” Aaron had argued, claiming that the trip would be too long without enough to do to keep his lively younger brother occupied. In the end, he had given in to the wishes of his father, and so far everything had turned out fine. Keith had listened much better than Aaron had predicted and, over the weeks, they had settled more into the role of companions than that of older and younger brother.

  Aaron decided they should stop for the night when they came across a small creek running through the canyon. He’d had enough foresight to lay in a few extra provisions and, once the camp was set up, they feasted on cold chicken and biscuits from the café. After their meal, Keith took the few dishes down to the creek and, by the time he got back, Aaron had taken off his boots and had his weary feet stretched out toward the crackling fire.

  Keith plunked down next to him and took off his own boots, stretching his feet out in imitation of his older brother. Aaron looked at him suspiciously when he suddenly started to chuckle, and waited patiently for Keith to tell him what he found so amusing. Over the years, he had learned that Keith would always tell him what was on his mind if he just waited.

  “Hey, Aaron,” he said and Aaron couldn’t help but smile.

  “Yes.”

  “Remember that time, when you and me camped out in that little old bitty cave near Davis Creek?”

  “No,” Aaron answered, “I had managed to forget about that up until now. That’s one incident I don’t enjoy revisiting.”

  “Oh, come on,” Keith said, “just ‘cause Pa was a little sore at you when we got home doesn’t mean the trip wasn’t worth remembering.”

  Aaron laughed at that remark. “If Pa was only a little sore, than I’d have hated to see what would have happened if he’d been downright angry.”

  “Well, I thought the trip was great,” Keith said, “especially when that bear came along. You know, I never was scared. I knew you would protect us.”

  Aaron smiled softly as Keith continued.

  “I did everything you said on that trip and we made it home safe. Must be nice being the oldest,” Keith continued thoughtfully, “getting to make all the decisions.”

  Aaron didn’t bother responding. Despite his claims to have forgotten that trip he knew the memory of it would be with him forever. Keith would never understand the responsibility that came with being the oldest. Aaron had known, even back then, that if anything ever happened to his little brother while in his care, he would never forgive himself. That cave had been far beyond the boundaries set for them by their father, and he’d been so scared that they wouldn’t find their way home again, scared his brother would fall, or get sick, or . . . He shook his head to fight off the old feelings of guilt. He and his little brother had always looked at the world from two different perspectives.

  It must be nice being the youngest—nobody to look out for but yourself.

  As the two brothers rested side by side, Aaron finally allowed himself to relax. Their work was done, and in a few weeks he would be able to deliver his younger brother back safely to their father and, although he was actually enjoying his brother’s company, he would be glad to hand over that burden of responsibility.

  An hour later, Aaron and Keith lay wrapped in their blankets, close to the fire. Keith had been asleep within moments, but Aaron was still wide awake. His mind was always buzzing with information, memories, and new ideas. His mind kept going back to some of the strange people they had met in town. Like he’d told Keith, there was always some truth mixed in with every tale, and he wondered just what the truth was about this shortcut they had taken. He yawned loudly and turning over on his side closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. As his mind drifted slowly toward unconsciousness, he thought he heard a twig snap off in the distance and, at the same time, a strange smell filled his nostrils but, before he had a chance to react, sleep overcame him like a dark black curtain.

  Aaron woke slowly, the pounding in his head causing him to groan aloud. He forced his eyes open, and it took several minutes for them to adjust to the gloom surrounding him.

  Where am I?

  The pieces started coming back one by one. He’d followed Keith into the canyon, they’d camped near a creek, he’d had trouble falling asleep and then . . .

  That was where his memory failed him. He had been knocked out, he was sure of it, but how and by whom, he had no idea. Getting up, he surveyed his surroundings. He was in a room, a very dark room. It looked as if there had been a couple of windows at one point, but the glass had been taken out and heavy boards had been nailed in their place. Still feeling groggy, he stumbled out of bed, trying hard to ignore the throbbing ache at his temples. The icy cold floor alerted him to the fact that his boots were gone. Looking down, he was startled to realize that someone had changed his clothes, and he self-consciously wrapped his arms over his middle.

  “Keith?” he called out, trying to see in the bit of dim light coming through a few cracks in the warped, wooden walls.

  His voice was weak and raspy, and he headed toward a small table holding a cracked pitcher. Picking it up he was both relieved and dismayed to find only enough water to moisten his dry mouth. He would need more soon, but finding Keith was his first priority. He did a careful inventory of the room to see if it contained anything useful, but other than a bed, the table and pitcher, and a small chamber pot, which he used quickly, the room was empty.

  Wishing he had some sort of weapon, he headed for the door. He had expected to find himself locked in, but the creaky door opened easily. Finding himself in the middle of a long hallway, in which were at least seven other doors, he started toward the right and soon found a set of rickety old stairs. He made his way down cautiously, the old rotting boards beneath his feet making his spine tingle with every groan. Though he wanted to call out for his brother, the very air around him seemed to warn against making any loud noises.

  He climbed down two flights of stairs before he finally heard a faint clatter of dishes and a few hushed voices. One more flight brought him to the ground floor of what was appeared to be a very large house. To the left of him was a great, open room that in better days might have been the parlor. The stark, grey walls caused him to shiver, and the gaping lack of furniture gave him the feeling of being in a large airy cave. To the right, the voices came from what he assumed to be the dining room.

  Making his way quickly into the room, he found himself in the company of a group of mostly men all dressed exactly ali
ke—exactly like him, even the two woman he counted were dressed in the same faded gray pants and matching long-sleeved shirt.

  “Hey, Aaron, over here.” He turned quickly at the sound of Keith’s voice.

  Relief washed through him as he saw his little brother seated at a small table with two other young men and a small slip of a girl. He made his way over to the table and sat down. Keith immediately slid a dented tin plate in his direction.

  “Here, I saved you some of mine,” he said.

  Aaron looked at the half-eaten biscuit, and what at one time had probably been an egg.

  “No thanks, I’m not hungry,” he said, making a face and pushing it away.

  “Can I have it then?” asked a young blonde-headed boy sitting across from him.

  “Help yourself,” he answered, and watched in bewilderment as the boy grabbed at the food, quickly wolfing it down.

  Aaron closed his eyes and shook his head. This has to be a dream. Opening his eyes, and finding himself still sitting at the table, he turned to Keith. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “Ask him,” Keith answered, nodding his head toward a curly-haired young man that looked to be about the same age as Aaron.

  “I was just explaining things to your brother here,” the man said. “My name’s Tom, by the way, and this place . . . it’s every nightmare you’ve ever had put together.”

  Aaron gave him a quizzical look and Keith’s eyes grew wide.

  “Each of us was brought here,” he continued, “same as you. One minute, asleep in the canyon with our partner, the next we woke up here.”

  Aaron had been glancing around the room as Tom spoke and interrupted.

  “I don’t see any guards,” he said. “What’s stopping you all from just leaving?”

  Aaron watched in wonder as his table mates suddenly seemed to grow agitated. Tom lowered his voice before continuing.

  “Don’t know,” he answered.

  Aaron frowned in puzzlement.

  “Don’t know what?” he asked.

  “Who it is that keeps us here. Some say it’s him,” Tom said, tossing his head in the direction of an old, bent man standing toward the back of the room.

  “One man?” Aaron asked skeptically. “Who is he?”

  “Don’t know his name,” the blonde boy spoke up. “Everyone here just calls him the Gardener.”

  Tom gave the young boy a look that would have silenced a thunder storm, and the boy glanced down, his cheeks turning red.

  “My kid brother here talks too much,” Tom said.

  “Well, you’ll have to forgive me for being a bit skeptical,” Aaron said, “but I hardly think one man could contain . . .”

  “Twenty,” Tom filled in for him, “There’s twenty of us now with you here.”

  “Yes, and that looks to be about nineteen more than he can handle,” Aaron answered, gazing at the quiet man.

  “It’s not him.”

  Aaron turned toward the small girl whose voice was soft but also confident.

  She grew nervous as everyone turned to stare at her and, grabbing her long black hair, began to twirl it uncomfortably around her finger.

  “Do you know who it is?” Aaron asked her softly.

  The kindness in his voice seemed to give her courage and she looked up at him through two soulful blue eyes.

  “Spirits,” she answered, just as the fellow prisoners in the room began to stir.

  C

  hapter 3

  As if on cue, everyone in the room suddenly started moving. Dishes were thrown into a large soapy bucket and people began heading out in pairs. Aaron turned questioningly to Tom.

  “It’s time to get started for the day,” Tom answered his silent inquiry. “Assignments are written on the board.”

  He tossed his head toward a large chalkboard nailed to the far wall. On it were various assignments written next to a number.

  “Now, hold on a minute,” Aaron said, his eyes growing dark. “I want to know what’s going on around here. Who’s in charge?”

  “I told you,” Tom answered. “We don’t know who’s in charge,” then lowering his voice, “and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll start on your assignment and quit making a scene.”

  Aaron turned to Keith who was looking about as bewildered as he felt.

  “This is ridiculous,” Aaron shouted, hoping the right person would hear and answer. “I demand to know who’s in charge here!”

  Within seconds Aaron found himself surrounded by several of the much larger prisoners. There dark gazes and clenched fists told him they meant business.

  “Mister, keep your voice down,” said a well-muscled man who towered a good three inches above him. “You make trouble and we all suffer and I, for one, have suffered enough.”

  The man’s voice was deep and booming, but what drew Aaron’s attention was the giant fist the man held near his face. He was missing his middle and ring finger, and there was a large jagged scar running down his hand and up his sleeve. Keith, having seen the men moving toward his brother, had jumped to his feet and was tense, ready to fight. Aaron might have been willing to oblige him if it hadn’t been for the small hand that came to rest on his arm.

  “Please,” whimpered the girl from their table, “they might hear you.”

  Aaron looked down into the young girl’s pleading eyes and noticed the other prisoners in the room shifting nervously. Everyone’s eyes were darting around, as if at any moment, expecting some horrible repercussion. He decided in those few seconds that these people were not his enemy, these people were afraid. Afraid of what, he didn’t know, but not wanting to put others in danger, he decided to play along until he could find out more.

  He waved Keith close to him. “Okay, what do we do?”

  He could feel the men around him begin to relax, and a few of them exhaled loudly.

  “Check the board,” one man said, pointing toward the wall.

  “I’ll show you,” the girl said softly.

  Bringing them over to the board, she pointed out two numbers at the bottom.

  “These are your numbers,” she said, pointing out nineteen and twenty. “Your assignment will be written out each morning.”

  Aaron read the assignments and found himself pleased that he and Keith had been assigned together. At this point he would not allow Keith to be out of his sight, and for that he would fight.

  “So, we’re to work in a mine?” he questioned.

  She nodded her head. “I’ll show you the way.”

  “Wait,” Aaron said, gently taking her arm, “What’s your name and why are you alone?”

  Aaron had noticed that, other than the three large men that had surrounded him a few moments earlier, the young girl seemed to be the only one without a partner. He immediately regretted asking the question when her large blue eyes filled with tears. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out.

  “I’m sorry,” Aaron said, “you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  After a moment the girl looked up, and her eyes were so clear, so deep. For a moment they reminded him of the mother he and Keith had lost so long ago. Aaron felt a wave of protectiveness flow through him toward this young girl.

  “Emily,” she said softly. “My father was kill . . . died last week. Now come on, we have to hurry.”

  Keith followed his brother closely as Emily led them out of the house into a large rocky yard. Aaron’s countenance was about as dark as the sky as he looked around. As far as he could tell, the enormous house they had just exited was built directly inside the canyon and completely surrounded on three sides by impossibly high rock walls. There was a large iron gate blocking what appeared to be the only exit, and it opened onto a narrow pathway that quickly veered off to the left, making it impossible to see where it led. Other than the fellow prisoners busy at various tasks, and the one they called the Gardener, there appeared to be no one else in the yard.

  “Aaron, that gate doesn’t even look like it
’s locked,” Keith said.

  “No, don’t,” Emily said frantically, snatching at Aaron’s shirt sleeve. “You can’t get out that way. Please, come on. We have to hurry.”

  Aaron and Keith exchanged a glance and then both turned away from the lure of freedom to follow Emily. They were heading toward a black gaping hole that had been carved into the side of one the cliffs. Aaron guessed that it was the entrance to the mine.

  “Keith,” Aaron said quietly as they made their way across the yard, “how did you end up in the dining room this morning?”

  “Oh,” he answered, “well, I woke up in a dark room this morning. All the windows had been boarded up, Tom and his younger brother were in there with me. I have no idea how I got there.”

  “Did you have a headache?” Aaron interrupted.

  “Sure did,” he answered, “still do, actually. I kind of panicked at first; Tom’s a pretty nice guy though. He calmed me down and told me you had probably already gone down to breakfast. I was just getting ready to go and look for you when you walked in.”

  Aaron nodded and then winced as he stepped on a jagged stone. He glanced down and saw that his brother’s boots were also missing. The ground in the yard was hard and littered with stones. Whoever had taken their boots had known that escape wouldn’t be easy in the rocky canyon. As they approached the entrance, the huge man with the missing fingers was there handing out equipment.

  Aaron narrowed his eyes as he accepted a shovel. “You a guard?”

  “Look, I got nothin’ against you,” the man answered, “I just do what I can to keep everyone alive.”

  At those words, Emily winced. The man looked at her and his eyes seemed to soften for a moment.

  “I’m not gonna let you or anybody else cause any trouble for the rest of us,” he said, turning back to Aaron. “You can call me Grant. Now, get movin’. Emily will show you what to do.”

  “You don’t mean she’s going to work in the mine?” Keith snapped.

  “It’s okay,” she said, laying a thin hand on Keith’s arm. “I don’t do anything too hard. Come on.”