Ruled By Fear

by C. Cervi

  With that she entered the mine, seeming to be swallowed up by the darkness. Aaron placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and nodded his head in Emily’s direction. Then taking a deep breath, they followed.

  As they made their way through long, dark tunnels Aaron’s mind was racing. Mostly what he had at this point were questions. If it had been just him, he would have made a break for the main gate without ever looking back, but it wasn’t just him. He had Keith to worry about and now, Emily.

  He was baffled at the willingness of the other prisoners to work with, seemingly, no external motivation. He hadn’t missed the bruises on the faces of some of the prisoners, or the way their clothes hung loosely on their undernourished bodies. Still, someone was providing food, if you could call what he’d seen food, and someone was writing out assignments. There was also the fact that somehow, someone had transported both he and Keith here.

  Ghosts, that’s what one of the men in town had told Keith. Emily had called them spirits. So far, the only ones he had seen to be worried about were the other prisoners.

  His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Emily stopped. He had noticed as they walked along that about every five feet or so there was mound of dirt piled off to the side of the path. As they reached what looked to be the last one, Emily knelt down beside it on the cold, dirt floor. Tenderly, she smoothed her hand over the mound. Keith knelt down next to her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “Your father?” he asked.

  Emily nodded her head and wiped a dirty sleeve across her eyes. The next moment, she jumped up and hurried off down the tunnel, and as the two brothers raced to catch up with her, Aaron grew more concerned for this young girl, alone.

  The trio continued to weave through the winding tunnels for what seemed like ages. Small candles placed every so often in hollowed out nooks in the wall provided the only illumination, causing their moving forms to cast long and frightening shadows in front of them. Sagging boards creaked and groaned under the weight of the dirt above them. The continuous cracks and groans made Aaron flinch, and after a while, even the sound of their own footsteps caused him to cringe.

  Seeming to sense his apprehension, Emily spoke. “We’re almost there.”

  As they rounded yet another corner, Aaron could just make out some faint clinking sounds coming from up ahead and then, finally, the tunnel opened up into a wide chamber. This chamber was more brightly lit than the narrow tunnels had been and Aaron counted four men, Tom, and his brother among them, mining, if you could call it that. Aaron had spent some time one summer as a runner for one of his father’s friends in a mine, and he had seen the men at work—had even tried it himself on occasion. But it was clear that these men in front of him had no experience with mining. He watched for a moment as they gouged huge chucks of rocks out of the walls with old, rusty picks, and shovels.

  “You ever mine before?” Tom asked, shaking dirt from his hair as he walked over to them.

  “A little,” Aaron answered. “I’m somewhat familiar with the process.”

  “Good,” Tom said, looking mostly at Keith. “Look, I know you’re new, and that none of this is making any sense, but we have to work fast and we have to work hard. We have a quota that needs to be filled every day and . . .” he paused for a moment, then glancing at Emily, lowered his voice a little, “we’re a good man short.”

  “Well,” Aaron said, trying to lighten the mood, “my brother here may seem puny, but he does pretty good work when he puts his mind to it.”

  Keith gave a half-hearted grin in response. Tom just turned and pointed to a section of rock near an old metal cart.

  “You two can start over there,” he said. “You know what gold looks like?”

  I’ve seen it a time or two,” Aaron responded.

  “Well, holler if you find any,” Tom said. “I assume that’s what we’re supposed to be looking for.”

  Ignoring Aaron’s puzzled expression Tom turned and went back to work near his own brother.

  “Oh yeah,” Tom called back over his shoulder. “Watch your toes.”

  Aaron looked down at his bare feet and grimaced. They were going to have to be very careful.

  “Okay, kid,” Aaron said, turning to Keith. “I guess we’d better get started.”

  He didn’t miss the signs of panic in his gaze. Aaron worked to keep his tone light. His younger brother had a hard time keeping his temper under control even under the best of circumstances and, from what he’d observed so far, an outburst wouldn’t do any of them any good. To his relief Keith offered no protest. Instead, taking his pickaxe, he threw himself into his work. Aaron knew what his younger brother must be feeling at the moment and, he took more than just a little pride in seeing how courageously he stepped up to the situation.

  The two brothers labored side by side for an interminable amount of time. Trying hard to follow the example of the two other sets of prisoners in the chamber, Aaron felt he had never worked so hard in all his life. They were deep inside the mine and the heat was almost unbearable. Both he and Keith had removed their shirts long ago and glistening sweat now poured off their bodies, dripping down into eyes that were already swollen from the dirt and dust.

  “Keith,” Aaron said, “you doing okay?”

  “Yeah,” Keith stopped for a minute and, picking up his shirt, used it to wipe the sweat from his eyes. “Sure could use something to drink though.”

  “It should be here soon,” Tom called over to them. “Emily delivers all the water and food. Ours should be here any minute.”

  Aaron had noticed that Emily had left the chamber shortly after they’d begun working. He was glad that at least she wasn’t expected to do any hard labor.

  About fifteen minutes later, Emily appeared carrying two large buckets. Aaron hurried over and took the heavier of the two. It was filled with wonderfully cool water, the other with some tin cups and some small wrapped bundles. There was plenty of water, and the men all drank their fill as Emily went around the room and handed each person one of the bundles. Upon unwrapping it, Aaron and Keith made quick work of the two biscuits, boiled egg, and a small amount of some kind of dried meat.

  “I could sure go for another couple of those bundles.” Keith grinned in Emily’s direction.

  The girl dropped her eyes and shook her head.

  “That’s all there is,” she said softly. “I’ll bring more water as soon as I can. You’re really lucky you know.”

  Aaron couldn’t help the look of surprise that came across his face.

  “You get more food than anyone else,” she continued, “because you’re working in the mine.”

  “Where do the food and water come from?” Aaron asked.

  Emily didn’t answer but, instead, took the empty water bucket and hurried out of the chamber. Aaron stood gazing after her in confusion.

  “She has a quota to fill too,” Tom said. “She gets our rations from the Gardener. He’s the one that has breakfast ready each morning and supper when we’re done. No one knows where the water comes from. There must be a well somewhere I suppose.”

  Aaron was baffled. He still had yet to see a single guard. Escape seemed easy, granted without shoes, horses, and no water, a person wouldn’t get very far. He knew he was going to need a little more information before he and his brother attempted leaving. He was glad to hear that there would be more to eat later. He hadn’t had any breakfast and the small amount of food he had just consumed hadn’t even been enough to quiet his protesting stomach. Stretching his weary muscles, he reached again for his shovel. The dirt was packed and hard, and it had taken them all this time just to fill their cart. He wondered where they were expected to dump the contents, and was about to turn and ask Tom when the man came up behind him and tapped his shoulder.

  “You two are quite the workers,” he said, nodding his head toward Keith. We’re making good time. I’ll show you where to dump that as soon as our cart is full.”

  Aaron smiled at the comp
liment in spite of himself. He was beginning to like Tom. He guessed him to be around his own age; early twenties. The man’s younger brother, whom he had learned was named Philip, was a spunky little kid, though he didn’t talk much. Aaron suspected that had something to do with the close watch and disapproving glances his older brother provided.

  The other team in the room were two men, Doyle and Cody, who appeared to be in their late forties. They weren’t blood related, but had been friends for more years than Keith had been alive. Their attitudes were as gruff as their appearance, although Aaron sensed that it was more from exhaustion then their personalities.

  They all took a few moments to sit and rest when Emily brought in the second bucket of water, several hours later. Aaron worried about the young girl carrying the heavy buckets alone, but for now there wasn’t much he could do about it. The men, all being exhausted, talked very little but Aaron did manage to discover that everyone brought here had come in pairs.

  “They like it that way,” said Doyle, the older looking of the two men. “They use us against each other.”

  “What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Cody answered, wiping some spilled water off his scruffy beard.

  That was the only answer Aaron received as the men, once again, returned to work. Aaron had hoped they were about done for the day, and cast a concerned glance toward his younger brother.

  “I’m fine,” Keith said. “I’m the young one, remember? Come on let’s just get finished.”

  As Aaron and Keith pushed their final cart load to the edge of a cavern and struggled to dump the heavy dirt and rocks over the edge, Aaron tried to push what Doyle had said out of his mind—it kept gnawing at him, making him anxious.

  “They use us against each other,” he’d said.

  Who? And Why?

  These men didn’t even seem to know for sure what they were mining for. He looked again anxiously at Keith. Whatever he decided to do, however they were going to escape, he would have to be very careful because his gut was telling him that his little brother, with his quick temper and keen sense of justice, wasn’t going to last long in this place.

  C

  hapter 4

  Just when Aaron was sure he couldn’t thrust his shovel into the hard rocky wall even one more time, Grant entered the chamber.

  “Quitting time,” he called, and his deep, bass voice resonated around the chamber.

  Aaron wondered how anyone could possibly keep track of the time in these dark, stuffy tunnels and, why Grant seemed to be the one always ordering everyone about, but he didn’t have the strength to do much more than drag his shovel behind him as he followed the other workers out of the mine.

  Keith fell in step beside him. Aaron noted the way he massaged at his back muscles, but there was still a slight spring in his walk. He marveled once again at the seemingly boundless energy of the sixteen-year-old.

  “Aaron,” Keith said, keeping his voice low, “when are we gonna make a break for it?”

  Aaron inhaled sharply. He’d wondered just how long it would be before Keith got antsy. Somehow, he had to make him understand that there were other people at stake here, and that they couldn’t afford to act recklessly.

  “Later,” he mouthed, shaking his head slightly.

  Keith didn’t say anything more, but Aaron could see the corners of his mouth turn down. He slapped him gently on the back, hoping to give him some sense of reassurance.

  As they exited the mine, Aaron wasn’t surprised to see that the sun had already gone down and he shivered once or twice as the chilly evening air hit his overheated body. If he was to guess, he’d say they had worked about ten hours that day. He quickly put his shirt back on as Grant, along with the two other men that always seemed to be near his side, collected the tools and stored them in a small shed near the mine entrance. Aaron noticed the shed door also had no lock. All of the tools inside could potentially be used as weapons and Aaron questioned, yet again, the prisoners’ seemingly easy compliance.

  Aaron was desperately wishing for a place to wash up. He felt as if he’d gained ten pounds in dirt, and that mingled with his sweat was leaving him very uncomfortable. As they entered the house, he realized with some dismay that the men were heading straight to the dining room. There would be no washing first. As soon as he entered the room however, all thoughts of tubs and soap went out of his mind as he breathed in the wonderful scent of food.

  He and Keith chose to stay with their companions from breakfast. Emily scooted closer to Aaron when he sat down and he gave her a friendly smile. As soon as all the prisoners were seated, the Gardener began to pass out the food and, to Aaron’s relief, each person was being given a heaping plate of stew, in equal amounts.

  “You have to be here to get your food,” Tom said to him. “That’s why you didn’t get any breakfast this morning.”

  Aaron nodded and tucked away that piece of information.

  “Thank you,” he said as he was handed his plate.

  The old man grunted disapprovingly.

  Unfortunately, the stew didn’t taste nearly as good as it smelled. There was no meat in it and, the vegetables that weren’t limp, fell apart when he tried to pick them up, but it was filling.

  Aaron watched across the table to make sure Keith ate everything on his plate. His brother at sixteen was just as picky an eater as he had been when he was two. Hard work had sharpened his appetite however, and he ate his food quickly.

  “What do we do now?” Aaron asked casually.

  “We go to bed,” Tom answered, finishing the last of his water.

  “And tomorrow?” Aaron figured he knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

  “The same as today,” Tom said.

  Aaron noted the way Philip’s shoulders drooped at his brother’s answer. It was easy to see the young boy was losing spirit. Aaron decided to try harder tomorrow to get closer to Tom. If he could somehow manage to get everyone working together, he felt they might stand a chance against whoever was holding them prisoner. As he looked around the room at the sea of faces, he knew he had his work cut out for him. Everywhere he looked he saw fear, despair, and defeated acceptance.

  Before he could find a way to reach these people though, he needed some answers. He had a plan to get some of those answers that night, but he needed to make sure Keith was out of harm’s way first.

  Just as suddenly as that morning, by some internal sense of timing, all the prisoners rose and, disposing of their dishes, shuffled out of the dining room and up the stairs. Aaron talked to Keith as quietly as he could as they followed the crowd.

  “I’m going to take a look around tonight,” he whispered.

  Keith’s eyes lit up, but Aaron quickly dashed any ideas he may have had about joining him.

  “I want you to see if you can get any information out of Philip,” he said. “Maybe after Tom goes to sleep. See if you can find out anything useful.”

  “I . . .” Keith started and then looked away.

  “What is it, Keith?” Aaron asked gently.

  “Well, I . . . was kind of hoping I could move over to your room,” Keith answered. “You know, so you won’t be by yourself.”

  Aaron swallowed the smile that was threatening to cross his face.

  “I appreciate that little brother, but I’m counting on you to get us some information.” He reached out and gave Keith a reassuring pat on the shoulder and, when they reached the top of the stairs, they turned down opposite sides of the hallway.

  “Aaron,” Keith called softly from his doorway.

  Aaron turned and leaned against the doorframe. Keith hesitated for a moment before he spoke.

  “Goodnight,” he said finally.

  “Night, Keith,” he answered.

  Aaron entered his room and almost wished he had taken Keith up on his offer to stay with him. It was much too dark to see and the room was cold. He stumbled his way over to the table with the pitcher and, picking it up, n
oted that a small amount of water had been added.

  Just enough to keep us going.

  Crossing the room, he was glad to see that the chamber pot had been emptied, and he wondered if it was the Gardener, or perhaps Emily, that did the “housekeeping”.

  His mouth still felt as if it were full of dust, and he was tempted to drink the water, but decided he should save it for morning. Wiping his hand across his face, he groaned as he felt the sharp prickle of whiskers.

  “Well, there’ll be no shaving just yet,” he told himself.

  What he wanted more than anything was to stretch his body onto the bed and rest, but he knew if he did that he would be sure to fall asleep. Instead, he settled himself on the floor and gazed at a small beam of moonlight shining through a crack in the wall. There were enough tiny cracks for him to follow the moon’s movement across the bare, wooden floor and, when he was sure that a few hours had passed, he got up and slowly walked toward his door.

  The door was unlocked but, for some reason, that fact did more to disturb than comfort him. He rubbed at his stomach, trying to ease the queasy feeling he got anytime he snuck out after dark. As a boy, he’d only dared to sneak out of the house a handful of times. Thankfully, his father had only ever found out about two of them, but he had a feeling that the penalty for being caught here would be much worse than any his father had provided.

  As he made his way quietly down the hall to the stairs, he was glad for the first time that day that he had no boots. Working in the mine, he and Keith had had to take great care not to cut off a toe or run over a foot with the cart’s wheels, but now his bare feet were working to his advantage, and he moved soundlessly as he made his way to the first floor. The house was dark and, from what he could tell, no one was stirring. Making his way to the dining room, he quickly checked the board. So far, no new assignments had been written. He debated whether to choose a corner to hide in and wait until someone showed themselves, but he wanted to check the gate first.

  He had almost reached the front door when he heard a creaking sound. He froze, straining his ears for the slightest noise. Off to the left he could barely make out a sound—like a slight breeze or . . .”