Desolate Tides (Earth Exiles Book 5)

by Mark Harritt

  Mike’s eyes met the grey man. The grey man flinched away from the cold fury that he saw. Then he remembered there was nothing Mike could do to him, and he laughed, spit on Mike, and walked away.

  Mike’s eyes followed him and he wiped the phlegm away, “Bastard.”

  “Oh hell, I think he’s awake. Mike, are you okay?”

  Mike’s eyes slowly focused as he looked around. He was naked, in a rusting, banded iron cage. Metal and rock were predominant in his new prison. The cage opened on a metal walkway stretching to opposite walls in a great, open shaft. He sat suspended above the darkness with nothing he could see below the iron bands of his cage. The walkway was completely enclosed with a caged arc of banded metal, more cages lining the walkway on both sides. An archway was carved into the stone at either end, the caged walkway pinned into the stone with iron rivets around the arch. Dim light showed through open windows in the wide, cylindrical shaft. Dust motes swam in the wane light which grew fainter as it approached Mike’s cage, barely disturbing the gloom.

  The walls of the cylinder were roughly hewn dark stone, glistening as moisture from the air slowly precipitated onto the cool surface. Moisture leaked through the windows, leaving streaks as it trailed down the wall. Grey fungus and mold covered the stone, following the path of the water. The only thing that broke the monotony of grey and black were streaks of dark, red rust that had taken hold of the banded metal. He couldn’t see the beginning of the great shaft above, nor the floor of the shaft below.

  The dull pain of his broken left arm drew his attention. His arm was crooked, and that made the muscle of his forearm bulge. Every motion created a sharp pain that made him moan. He could barely move his hand, and he knew that if the arm stayed like that, it was going to heal crooked. He couldn’t set it by himself, though, he needed help. There was no one close to help, though. The cages to his left and right were empty. Even if he tried to straighten the bone, he didn’t have anything to make a splint with.

  The broken arm was the worst pain that he had, but he knew he’d taken more injuries than that. The soldiers at the crash site had beaten him bloody, until he passed out. He tried to take stock of his injuries in the dim light. He was bloody from the beating he’d taken, though some of that had streaked, probably from the piss of the grey man. It looked like that wasn’t the first time that he’d been pissed on.

  The areas of skin that weren’t covered with blood had huge contusions that made his body a riot of sickly colors, the blood pooling just under the skin to create dramatic bruising, deep purple shading all the way to light green. He looked like hell warmed over.

  “Probably worse than it looks,” he thought.

  He took his right hand and cupped his genitals, hoping that they were at least intact. It felt like one of them was swollen, but they seemed to be, compared to the rest of his body, in relatively good shape.

  “Thank God I still have something to live for,” Mike said out loud, repeating an old soldier’s joke. No matter how battered he was, gallows humor was something that was deeply ingrained in him, and, in fact, in any man that had seen the horrors of war. You couldn’t walk with death and not have method of coping with your own mortality. He was startled by his voice, though. His mouth and throat were dry and his voice came out in a weak croak.

  “Hey Mike, are you okay?”

  Mike tried to reply to Rich, but the only thing that came out was a faltering croak. He stopped, tried to work up some saliva by spitting, but it was slow in coming. Finally, he had enough to coat his mouth, and then he swallowed. He tried to speak again.

  “Yeah, Rich, I’m okay. I’m a little beat up, though.”

  His voice was so very weak, but Rich heard his reply, “Damn Mike, we were worried about you. I didn’t think that you’d make it. They kicked you in the head a few times after they got the helmet off. You wouldn’t go down without a fight, though.”

  Mike was still trying to work up saliva, so he didn’t answer immediately. He heard the admiration in Rich’s voice. Mike was still pissed off, so he wasn’t in the mood for hero worship, “That’s because I’m stupid, Rich. I never should have put us on the damn shuttle. We should have figured out a different way to get out of there. That was a suicide run. A stupid idea.” While Mike talked, he explored his face and head with his fingertips, wincing every time he found a sensitive spot. His face and head were crusted with blood, swelling across the face, and he felt lumps across the top of his head. He wasn’t sure, but he might have a broken cheek bone as well. Several teeth were missing from the left side of his jaw.

  “Finally, something we can agree about. You’re a fucking moron, Mike.”

  The voice was familiar, but Mike couldn’t place it immediately. The voice was distorted. The attitude helped to Mike to figure out who it was, “How the hell did you get here, Joseph? We left you back at the compound.”

  “Because you bastards stirred up a hornets’ nest. They were everywhere, looking for you. A hundred of those grey bastards showed up, and then they beat the hell out of me. I didn’t understand their damn language, so they kept beating me until I passed out, and then they brought me here,” Joseph answered.

  “Where is here?”

  “I have no fucking clue. I was on their floating airplane for hours. Then they pulled me out of the plane and beat me some more. They whipped me all the way across the city, then took me inside some huge tower, and brought me down here.”

  Mike listened to Joseph talk. There was something definitely wrong with the way he sounded, “I’m sorry Joseph. If I’d known you were going to end up here, I would have taken you with us.”

  “Fuck you, Mike.”

  Joseph didn’t say anything after that. Mike didn’t know if it was because he didn’t want to talk, or if he was surprised by Mike’s apology.

  Mike turned his attention back to Rich, “Who else made it?”

  “Craig’s here. Ken came in with us, but he was in bad shape and they took him somewhere else. There are some of the Contai warriors in here, but I don’t speak their language that well.”

  “How many of us, total.”

  “Do you want to count Joseph?”

  Mike waited for Joseph to say something, but he stayed quiet, so Mike answered, “Yes, we include Joseph. He’s one of us.”

  “Oh, thanks Mike.”

  “Shut up, Joseph, you aren’t helping.”

  “Yeah, looks like you’re doing so good, Mike. How many people did you kill or get killed to end up right where I’m at?”

  That last shot from Joseph cut too close to the truth for Mike. He winced at the remark. Rich used the sudden quiet to answer Mike, “We’ve got about seven, maybe eight of us here. They’ve got us stretched out along the cages. We had more, but they’ve taken some into their lab.”

  Mike hung his head, and tears ran down his face, “Damn.”

  Joseph was right. So many men dead, because of him. So many dead because he had to do a reckless charge against the green soldiers. His damn ego had caused this. His anger at losing Jennifer had clouded his judgement, and he’d gotten forty plus good men killed. He banged his head back against the iron bands, wincing as one of his many contusions came between his thick skull and the cold metal.

  “What about Leth? Did he make it?”

  “No. His body was one of the first ones they threw into the pit.”

  That was the hardest thing to hear. Leth had climbed on that shuttle so that he could avenge the death of his brother, Dind. Now they were both dead, for no good reason that Mike could see.

  “The pit?”

  “Yeah Mike, the pit. If you look down, that’s the pit.”

  Mike looked down, but the dim light didn’t illuminate the area below, “What’s down there?”

  “I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s mean and nasty.”

  “You mean there’s something alive down there?” Mike asked.

  “Yeah, something lives down there. Wasn’t that what you were asking a
bout?”

  Mike sighed, “No, I was just wondering if there was a way out.”

  “I don’t know Mike, maybe. There are arches all around the wall. I think there are tunnels through the arches. I’m not sure, though. There’s always water running across the bottom. It must come from somewhere. We’ll never find out though. There’s no way we can get past Min.”

  “What the hell is Min?”

  “That’s what lives down there, Mike. They call it Min.”

  Mike looked down through the bars, trying to see below him. Then he realized something, “Rich, have you been out of your cage?”

  “No, not since they locked me in it.”

  Mike realized that he would have to do his business onto the floor below, “You mean there’s a monster down there, that lives in piss and shit, and eats human corpses?”

  “They aren’t all corpses when they’re dropped down there.”

  Mike was horrified, “They aren’t even dead yet?”

  “No, not all of them.”

  Mike closed his eyes. He didn’t know what kind of house of horrors this was, but he decided at that moment he would do anything he could to save the people that he had left, which included Joseph.

  “What do you mean, they’ve been taking our people?”

  “They take them, and they don’t bring them back.”

  “What do you know about this, Brett?”

  Joseph didn’t answer.

  Mike suddenly had a shooting pain through his head. He put the palm of his good hand up to his eye. He closed both eyes tightly. He didn’t know what to think or say. Finally, having come to terms with the reality of his situation, he spoke again, “So, after they take them, what happens?”

  “Well, usually, after a few days, they dump what’s left over into the pit. Some of the guys are still alive. Then Min comes out, and finishes them off.”

  “Finishes them off? How?”

  “Ah, are you sure you want to hear this, Mike?”

  Whatever Rich was going to tell him, Mike knew that it was probably going to be horrific, “Yeah, I’d rather know.”

  “Well, Min doesn’t have any kind of weapons except for his teeth and his hands. It took one guy at least thirty minutes to die. I didn’t understand what he was saying, but he was crying the entire time.”

  Mike shook his head. The Contai weren’t cowards by any stretch of the imagination. Instead, they’d always struck Mike as indomitable warriors. Whatever had taken the man’s strength and made him cry like a child while he slowly died was truly evil. Mike had always hoped that if he died in combat, he could go out on two feet, trying to take as many of the bastards with him as possible. Now, even that possibility might be taken from him.

  “You said Ken was with us when we came in. Do we know where he is now?”

  Joseph’s cruel laughter sounded, “I can tell you where pretty boy is. He’s back in the lab. They’re doing to him what they do to the Contai, but they’re taking their time with him. He’s a new toy. He’s only the second one of our species they’ve ever seen. They’ll take their time with him, and then all of you, all of us.”

  Mike suddenly understood, “Joseph, what did they do to you?”

  A twisted, dark laughter broke from Joseph. Mike could tell that Joseph was teetering on the edge of sanity. If Mike had to do it all over again, he would have either taken Joseph with them, or killed him at the compound, anything to save him from this horrible dungeon.

  “Oh . . . god, what have they done to me? What haven’t they done to me, Mike.”

  Anger, horror, and desperate finality were all rolled up in those words.

  There was only one thing Mike could say, “I’m so sorry, Joseph.”

  Joseph started sobbing.

  ----------------------------------------------------

  Mike was still weak, and he quickly fell back asleep, the warmth of the day allowing him to sleep without shivering. He drifted in and out of sleep all day, sometimes talking with either Rich or Craig. Brett didn’t talk any more even though Mike tried to engage him. The guards brought him and the other prisoners food and water twice a day. The food was a rancid gruel, and the water smelled like piss, but it was all that Mike had, so he ate and drank, retching as he did so, trying to keep it down. The guard, Zrelnta, the same one that had been pissing on him, grinned as Mike drank the water, so Mike knew where the flavor came from. Mike filed that information away in the back of his mind. The water wasn’t enough, so Mike had taken to licking the iron bars when there was any moisture on them.

  Mike had very little left to live for. His family was long dead. Jo and Jennifer, two amazing women that had surprisingly decided to share their lives with him, were dead. His two unborn children, both dead. All his friends, the people he’d tried to save, all dead. There was only one thing to live for, his men. He had to get these men out of this sadistic dungeon.

  That and vengeance. Vengeance was a cold satisfaction, but if that was all he had left, then that was what he would pursue. If he could find a way out of this cage, he would kill them all. He would nourish his grudges, cherish them, and hopefully, one day, feed them with the blood of his enemies. That would be another day, though. Now, he had to deal with the realities of his situation.

  The Turinzoni were cruel guards, quick to punish for any perceived infraction. Mike found that out when he tried to grab the top of the cage and pull himself up to a more comfortable position. A baton came down on his fingers, hard. Mike jerked his hand back and he clenched his fist and shoved the knuckles into his mouth. He looked up to see a guard that he didn’t recognize.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Mike yelled.

  The guard had hard, obsidian eyes. The look in the eyes switched quickly from bored to pissed. Mike could tell that he’d hit a nerve. The guard’s eyes narrowed and he hit a switch on the baton. An arc of energy appeared at the end. Sparks snapped and sizzled. Mike’s eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen. The guard growled and jabbed the baton through the bands of Mike’s cell. Mike had nowhere to go. He tried to flatten himself against the back of the cell, but he couldn’t get away from the baton. He screamed as the energy shot through his body.

  The torture didn’t stop with one jab. The sadistic guard laughed maniacally as Mike screamed. The guard hit Mike with the shock baton several more times. Mike couldn’t control his body. He lost control of his bladder and bowels as his body arced so hard that it drove his head against the bars. He saw stars and bright lights, and he didn’t know if it was because of the shock he was getting or if he had slammed his head into the bars hard enough to give himself a concussion.

  Two more hits with the baton, and his muscles started twitching uncontrollably, contorting his body into positions that seemed physically impossible. Energy blazed through his nervous system, making him feel like his entire body was on fire. The pain intensified around the break in his arm, making it feel like someone was slowly sawing it off. Somewhere, as he lost consciousness, he heard other people screaming. He knew those voices. They were screaming in English and Contai. He even heard Brett yelling at the guard. Throughout the torture, he heard the guard’s sadistic laughter. Then, mercifully, he passed out.

  When he woke, his throat was raw from screaming, but the guard was gone.

  “Fuck my life,” he muttered.

  “You okay, Mike?”

  Other than the standard dull ache he felt all over his body, he felt okay, “Yeah, I’m good. Nothing else seems broken. No more cuts. I think I might be well done, though.”

  “I like mine medium well,” Rich quipped.

  Mike suddenly remembered his head cracking on the bars. He felt the crown of his head, and he felt a bump the size of a bird egg, “I take that back, I’ve got another bump on the top of my head.”

  “Good thing it was your head, then,” Craig called out.

  Mike chuckled weakly, “Yeah, I’ve always had a pretty thick one, so no damage done.”

 
“The guards don’t want to damage you too bad. They don’t want to piss off the monkey. The little bastard would be upset if he thought the guards had damaged his specimen,” Brett explained. “The batons don’t damage you permanently. They just make you wish you were dead. There’s no real, physical damage. If you don’t challenge them, then they leave you alone. Don’t look them in the eye. They hate that.”

  “Monkey?” Mike asked.

  “Yeah, the doctor, or whatever he is. Sebius, he’s the one in charge. There’s one more of them back there in the laboratory. They poke, prod, and cut. Sometimes they pull fluid from me and give me shots,” Brett answered.

  “Why?” Mike asked.

  “I have no idea. But its better if you don’t cause any trouble. If you cause trouble, then you’re next on the slab, and they start cutting on you.”

  Mike frowned. It seemed they’d done a number on Brett. He was a lot more docile than he had been. Still, Mike could understand. If you’re alone, locked in a cage for several months, no way out, and you kept getting hit by those shock batons, that would definitely adjust your attitude.

  “How many of them are in the lab?” Mike asked.

  Well, there’s the guards, four per shift. A lot of techs are down there; I don’t know the total. And, the main engineer, Sebius.”

  Mike contemplated what Brett had just told him. He doubted the techs and engineers would be able to fight. He also doubted that the jailers were the most competent warriors either. It was a completely different set of skills. Even if they had been soldiers, odds were, if they had been down here long enough, then their skills had probably atrophied. The guards seemed thicker around the waist than the ones they’d fought in the mountains.

  “Bret, if it comes down to a fight, can we count on you?”

  There was another pause, this one longer than before, and then Bret answered, “It ain’t going to happen, Mike. You don’t understand anything about this place. There’s no way out. You can’t fight them, Mike. There’s only death here. You can only choose how much pain they inflict on you. If you fight them, your world turns into pain, and when you go down the hatch, you’re still alive when Min comes for you. Ain’t no getting’ out, Mike.”