"What is normal now?" said Mr. Albertson. "This is a new time. Emotions will fluster and change as it always has."
Everyone was silent.
Finally, Mr. Roberts said, "The lake has been filled enough. Let the dig commence."
Everyone went over to their tunnels and equipped their gear. Victor took his drill and proceeded to climb the tunnel. Stanley followed.
Victor climbed up the ledges at a fairly timed pace, but he was still not as masterful as Stanley. Every few ledges, Victor would pause to take a breath, and Stanley would wait patiently, at one point, sighing.
Victor reached the top. He was slow to secure his feet in the ledges, and it took him a while to withdraw his drill. He even closed his visor lazily.
"Don't do this to spite me," Stanley said. "We are almost out. Let us start and be done with it."
Victor aimed his drill and began in that instant. It took him a few minutes to adjust himself, but when he found his balance, he proceeded to drill with amazing fortitude. He dug his drill deeper in and progressed up a ledge every few seconds. The dirt fell too quickly and in large amounts. Even Stanley had trouble managing it that he had to say, "Slow down. I cannot keep up." But Victor did not relent. He gave a small smirk and continued upward.
Stanley did what he could to trudge through, but his load piled to tremendous amounts that he fell a few ledges behind Victor.
"Slow your pace," Stanley said. "We may actually find some trouble."
But Victor continued on.
"Did you not hear me?"
Victor did not respond.
Stanley rushed to push the dirt that had buried his legs. He pushed some down, but more quickly fell to fill in the gaps, and surely his arms trembled. The dirt eventually enveloped his legs, up to his waist. All Stanley could do was to keep the dirt from piling. But he could not remove it in time. The dirt started to form around Victor's feet, and gradually rose.
Victor stopped drilling and looked down at his legs. "Why are my legs stuck?"
"Did you not hear my warnings?" Stanley said.
"Only once."
"Well look what happened."
"Just get out of there," Victor said.
Stanley rested his arms on the dirt and took a deep breath before digging his hands into the dirt. He tightened his chest and pushed the dirt down. There was no noticeable shift, but little bits of dirt rolled down, until it gathered and slid down in one wave. Stanley’s legs were caught within the dirt and he slid with it. He reached out and dug his hands into the ledges. The dirt slowed, so he wriggled his legs, but his left hand released its grasp from the ledge. The sudden shift of his body caused the rest of the balanced dirt to break. It slid down past Stanley’s face, chest, and legs, all the way down the tunnel. Stanley shot his left arm upward and curled his fingers around a ledge. The last of the dirt fell and he repositioned his feet. He rested his head and panted.
"A true test of strength, that was," Victor said.
"Shut up."
"Well then, let’s get on it." Victor brought his drill up and dug again, slower this time, but he stopped soon after.
"What is this?" Victor said. He slowly lowered his drill, but a spiky sheet of circular metal fell and clung just on the tip of his drill. The dirt around it cleared to reveal its full size: almost the width of the tunnel itself. The serrated edges dangled close to his face. "No, no, no," he uttered.
Stanley looked up. "What’s the matter?"
"Stay down, all the way down, you hear me?" Victor tightened his grip on the drill and quickly pulled it, throwing the sheet down the tunnel. It flew past Stanley, who had planted himself flat in the ground.
Stanley looked down as the sheet slid.
"Look out!" called Victor. Both he and Stanley held their breaths and listened quietly. Moments later, a screech echoed up their tunnel.
Stanley flipped to his back and slid down and Victor followed. They reached the bottom and found Mr. Roberts on the floor with his hands above him, cut and bleeding all over.
"Get this man to the vending machines!" said Stanley. A few men walked over and carried Mr. Roberts away. They walked past the dirt lake, where the metal sheet had imbedded itself into. They took him out to town square where the crowd immediately saw him and gasped. Women shrieked and children were taken away. The men stepped forward and poked their heads out.
Stanley ran ahead and withdrew a pill and water from the vending machine. He returned to Mr. Roberts, who uttered, "I can’t."
Stanley forced the pill down his throat and poured the water in.
Mr. Roberts swallowed and coughed. The blood retracted into his wounds and the flesh around them sealed. He was filled with breath. He composed himself and calmly stood up. The crowd looked at him, and he looked back. He turned to Stanley and Victor and said, "What hurt me?"
"Did you not see it?" Victor said.
"So much dirt came down all of a sudden. We were only focused on getting it all out."
"Oh yes. Victor wouldn’t maintain a steady pace," Stanley said.
"Stay on point here," Victor cut in. "The thing was another weapon. It was like nothing we've ever come across."
"Is it inside?" said Mr. Roberts.
"Yes," said Victor.
Ailey ran out from the cave and said, "Mr. Roberts, we need you quickly. Mr. Albertson is hurt." Ailey ran back inside.
The crowd mumbled and looked to each other worriedly. Mr. Roberts ran into the cave. Stanley, Victor, and the council members followed.
Ailey and a few men were at a tunnel. They were all shouting, "Push now Mr. Albertson!"
"What happened?" said Mr. Roberts.
"Mr. Albertson was digging ahead of me," said Ailey. "I insisted that I should drill, but he brushed me off. He had something fall on him, something big."
"Why didn’t you carry him out?" said Victor.
"The thing was in the way," Ailey said.
"Everybody, stand back," said one of the men. "I can see it coming down." All the men scattered from the tunnel as a large white object tumbled out and crashed deep into the dirt floor. Everybody stared at it with wide eyes.
"What is that?" said Stanley.
Victor approached and touched it. "I don’t know," he said. "It’s smooth." He knocked on it. "And it’s hard enough to kill someone."
A faint wheeze came from the tunnel. Ailey jumped to attention and ran right in. Later, he emerged with Mr. Albertson in his arms.
Mr. Albertson was covered in dirt. The entire right side of his chest caved inward and his legs curved sideways. His eyes slowly opened and shut while his mouth twitched, releasing the occasional moan. One of those moans managed to resemble, "Pill."
"Don’t move, Mr. Albertson," said Ailey. "We’ll carry you there." He heaved and lifted the frail old man and dashed across the dirt lake and exited the cave. The other council members followed as a wave of wails exploded from the crowd outside.
Out in town square, Ailey was on his knees, caressing Mr. Albertson. Buckner ran over with a pill and a cup of water. Ailey forced the pill down Mr. Albertson’s throat and poured the water after.
A loud snap and several smaller ones came from within Mr. Albertson’s disfigured body. His distorted muscles twisted and his bones morphed. He gasped, wheezed, and wailed in pain as his bent body parts refitted themselves. He lay on the floor as his body stretched normally. He gasped as he sat up and faced a quiet and visibly shocked crowd.
"Look what happened to him," Victor said. "He almost died to one of those weapons."
"No, no," said Mr. Albertson. He stood up and waved Victor down. "I’m fine."
"You are not fine. If these dormant weapons alone could inflict such damage, imagine their potential in the hands of an intelligent enemy."
"If they hurt us, then we can simply have our pills," said Stanley.
"What if we aren’t able to? What if our route to the pills is cut? Scarier yet, what if they kill us then and there?"
Many in the crowd c
overed their ears and dispersed, while some concerned people remained and listened.
Mr. Roberts raised his hand. "That is enough. If the council members are so fervent for a new vote, then I will call one to order."
Victor, Ailey, and most of the other council members grumbled in approval. Stanley, Mr. Roberts, Mr. Albertson, and a few others looked on sadly.
Everyone returned their gear and made their ways home. As Mr. Albertson went toward his domicile, he said to Stanley, "I am sorry. I should have been careful."
"No, Mr. Albertson, you have no fault here."
Mr. Albertson patted Stanley and said, "It looks like you might have to visit the archives after all."
"Yes," said Stanley. He reached into his pockets and his eyes lit up. "I just might have to." He turned away from Mr. Albertson and rushed to the streets. He passed the domiciles until he reached his home. Emily was waiting outside.
"Sweetie," she said. "I didn’t get to see you this morning."
"Hello darling," Stanley said as he kissed her forehead. "I’m sorry. I was in a bit of a rush." He passed Emily and went inside.
"Stanley, are you in a hurry? What’s going on?"
Stanley grabbed his bag and went over to the bed. He lifted his mattress and found the metal sticks and the plastic tube.
"Stanley," Emily said eyes wide and standing back. "What are those?"
Stanley stuffed the sticks and tube into his bag.
"Stanley? Answer me."
He shuffled up and said, "They’re tools, darling. They’re merely tools. I know they are." He brought his ragged bag to his chest and stumbled out of his domicile.
NINE
Stanley took wide, uneven steps through the streets past the domiciles. He patted his dirty clothes to straighten them and ran his hand through his scruffy hair many times until it became somewhat neat.
He reached town square. Only a few people were still around, but they were returning home. The clock read ten.
Stanley walked to the vending machines and set his bag on a railing.
Buckner was standing there, having his pill.
"Hello Stanley," he said. "Today was a hard day. What are you doing out and about?"
"I’m going to visit the archives. I might just stay up all night," said Stanley. "And I'll need energy to do that." He fumbled in his front pockets, but found they were empty so he searched his back ones. He withdrew two coins and inserted them into the machines and received two pills and two cups of water. He swallowed the two pills and drank the water. He tried to grab his bag with his other hand, but he missed the handle and knocked it off the edge. The bag fell to the floor and its contents - the three metal sticks and the metal tube - sprawled across the floor.
"Let me help you with that," Buckner said. But when he saw what had fallen out of the bag, his face darkened.
"No need for that," said Stanley. He went down and scooped everything straight in. "But thank you." He continued on his way as Buckner watched.
Stanley walked out of town square and passed the rarely visited storage rooms. The maintenance system would usually brush the dirt away, but a thin layer had settled there. The deeper he walked, the thicker the dust was. He entered a dark corner, a place where the light of the town did not reach. A faint red light flickered and Stanley walked toward it. He stepped close to it and ran his fingers below it and pressed a button. Two metal doors slid open and revealed a small room that was dimly lit by an array of green and red buttons. The wall across had a giant black screen that hung there in silence. Stanley stepped in and the doors slid back in place.
Stanley edged forward and rested his hands on the cold, metal control panel. There were numerous buttons, some green, others red, a few of them flickering. In the middle was the largest of them all--a red button with a circular logo engraved on it. It glowed from a dark red to a light one and repeated. Stanley held his finger above it before finally pressing it.
The screen above him lit up and the new light blinded him. He brought his arm to his eyes and after a few moments, he looked up.
The screen displayed a simple, white interface that was divided into two sections - one labeled USERS and the other ARCHIVES. Stanley pressed the button that was below USERS. A long list of names appeared. At the top was J. Albertson.
Stanley chuckled. He then clicked the button below ARCHIVES and a list of years appeared. They were highlighted into different groups and classified by different eras. He read down the list, which did not seem to end. A sigh escaped as he hung his head and glanced at his feet. He turned to the side and saw a small metal chair. He went over to it and brought it in front of the screen then sat on it. He looked up and clicked on one of the more recent years and read.
Stanley remained in the archives, in that flimsy uncomfortable chair for hours. The files presented decades of history in minutes. It detailed the record of the great disaster, accompanied by pictures of what it would have done to Earth. Scenes of scorched plains and dark skies were prevalent. He read deeper into the history. There were accounts of space travel and numerous wars – things that nobody ever spoke of or probably knew about. Everything intrigued him, but he was there for something else.
Stanley flipped through a few centuries and reached the Mid Information Era. Something there stood out in particular. It was a picture of a man who was using one of the metal sticks to fit something in his mouth. The thing looked like a tree, but it was small, not like the ones in the atrium. And he was using the three pointed metal stick to pick it up. Beside it was a picture of a man with a pill in his hand. The picture was labeled The Transition from Food to Pill.
Stanley scrolled a little more down the history. He found a picture of a smiling woman with a needle in her arm, the needle being pushed by a man using a plastic tube. The picture was labeled 'The End of Medicinal Injections'.
Stanley looked away from the screen.
"They are tools," he said. "They are."
He went even deeper into the history, to the Late Industrial Era. A picture of a man, a woman, a little boy, and girl appeared. They were lying on a red blanket, on a green meadow, under a blue sky lit by a yellow light.
Stanley's mouth opened.
A rush of air escaped through it. Another came out, then a few more escaped, until words came with them.
"I.."
Another rush.
"What…"
Another rush.
His mouth closed. Two long drops of water ran down and fell into his lips, sealing them. He raised his hands, covered his face, and rested his elbows on the control panel.
After a long while, he stood up. He turned the screen off and walked to the doors. He turned and looked at the room. Then he stepped out.
He walked through the dark streets and reached town square. The clock read four.
Stanley made his way to the cave. He walked across the mushy dirt, where the lake had once been. He stopped in front of his tunnel and set his bag down. He equipped his gear and grasped the drill. Then he started climbing.
TEN
It was undoubtedly difficult for one man to do the job of two. Stanley’s arms had to be precise and stalwart to operate the drill and his legs had to be even stronger to support him amidst the falling dirt. But Stanley had accustomed himself to the task by keeping one foot far apart on a ledge and using the other to kick the dirt down. Not all of the dirt cleared, but most of it did which was enough room for him to step over. This way, Stanley’s progress was efficient.
He had reached his twentieth ledge when the dirt below him parted and slid down. That was when a light shone through and Victor appeared.
"Stanley, you had all of us worried," Victor said. Stanley lowered his drill. "What are you doing here?"
"Must I explain?" Stanley said.
"Why? Why are you digging alone?"
"I visited the archives. I saw pictures of the world above, these pictures I could have never imagined. An overwhelming haste took me over."
"How long
have you been here?"
"Long enough."
"You should stop." Victor placed a hand on Stanley’s drill.
"Why should I?" Stanley yanked his drill away.
"The council is holding a vote. We cannot continue without you."
"Is it a vote to end the dig?"
"Yes."
"Is it because of yesterday's incidents? Have you wooed some of the members to your side?"
"I didn't woo them. They've come to their right senses."
"Then there is no point in me being there. We both know that the vote will be overruled immediately."
"I know I can never convince you, but I must ask. Are these weapons not proof enough? Do they not seem wrong? Why are they designed as such if not to harm?"
"They are tools," said Stanley. "They are only tools, not weapons."
Victor grabbed a metal stick that had three points and held it before Stanley. "How could this possibly be a tool? Explain that to me."
"That? Well that was used to eat."
Victor rapidly blinked. "Listen," he said. "Come down and meet with the others. You can explain this to everyone."
"Until I am fully exhausted here, I will never go down."
"What has happened to you?" Victor said.
The tunnel shook and rumbled as dirt cracked and seeped down the tunnel.
Victor tightly clutched the ledges and cowered. Stanley looked up and said, "It calls for us." He raised his drill and continued.
"Do not be deceived," said Victor. "It's a threat!" He reached out and forced Stanley's drill down. "We must warn the others of this."
Stanley coiled his drill away. "Do you not wonder what that sound may be coming from? What if this rumble may be the cause of other people?" He brought the drill before him and continued.
"You are going to doom us," Victor said. "When will it have been enough? When the blood of our wives and children are spilled because of you? I will not allow it!" Victor lunged forward and switched the drill off.
"No!" said Stanley. He shot his fist toward Victor and knocked him back. "Get away from me! If you cannot see this to the end, then I will do it myself." Stanley turned and focused on drilling again.
Like Veins of Red Rubies (Most Precious Book 1) Page 5
