Ruled By Fear

by C. Cervi

  Keith’s reading was interrupted as they were, once again, plunged into darkness.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m sorry, Keith,” Aaron replied, his tone laced with aggravation. “The candle must have fallen. I just closed my eyes for a second.”

  “That’s all right,” Keith said. “I’ll light the other one and we’ll find it.”

  Keith quickly lit the last candle, and they dug around in the mud for a few minutes before finding the other stub.

  “This one’s going to have to dry out,” Aaron said, carefully scraping off the grime. “Let’s go ahead and put them away. We’re going to have to ration these out too.”

  Keith blew out the candle, and they placed their few belongings into Aaron’s belt. He tied it high across his chest, to keep it away from the mud and then spent the next few futile minutes trying to make himself comfortable in the stale pit. Finally, giving up, he settled down. Aaron closed his eyes and tried forcing his mind to concentrate on something other than their current circumstances. He hoped that by tomorrow he would be strong enough to help Keith find a way out. Maybe the walls further up were hard enough for them to dig a few hand and foot holds so they could climb out, or maybe Emily or Grant would pluck up enough courage to rescue them, or maybe . . . maybe they would eventually just shrivel up and die.

  “I know how he feels,” Keith said, interrupting his dark thoughts.

  “Who?”

  “Jesse.”

  “Oh . . . Yeah.”

  Aaron didn’t know how long he’d slept, but when he woke it was to a cool refreshing breeze. Keith was standing beside him, looking up.

  “What’s going on?” Aaron asked.

  “I don’t know—someone took the boards off the top.”

  Aaron jerked when something thick and hard hit his shoulder.

  “It’s a rope,” Keith shouted.

  The excitement of their potential rescue gave Aaron the strength to stand, although his ankle still couldn’t hold much weight.

  “Hello,” he called up.

  They waited for a moment, but the only answer was the sound of footsteps, running away.

  “Keith, I’m not sure if I can climb it,” Aaron said.

  Keith tested his weight on the rope before answering.

  “I’ll go up first. Then I can pull you out.”

  Aaron wasn’t sure Keith was strong enough for the task, but at this point there weren’t many other options. He patted his brother on the shoulder, and stood back so Keith would have plenty of room. The climb took the normally agile young man much longer than it should have, and Aaron realized just how weak they’d both become. Once his brother got to the top, Aaron grabbed hold of the rope and, inch by painful inch, he and Keith worked together—Keith pulling, and Aaron using his good leg to try and push himself up. He was nearly at the top when Keith’s grip slipped. Aaron didn’t fall very far but, on the way down, he cut his side on a rock jutting out from the wall. He could feel the blood trickling down his side, and it took all his concentration to hang on those last couple of feet as Keith hauled him up. When Aaron finally grabbed the edge, Keith dropped the rope, taking hold of his arm to pull him up. They both landed in a heap on the ground and lay panting, looking up at the sky. The sun was just going down—busy painting colors of orange and gold above the canyon walls.

  A canteen landed on the ground beside Aaron, and he looked up into the face of the last person in this place he would have expected to come to their rescue.

  C

  hapter 12

  The Gardener stood with his back to the sun, staring down at them. His eyes were cold and empty, and for a moment Aaron wondered if maybe he hadn’t been the one to lower the rope.

  “You need to get inside,” the Gardener said. “It will be dark soon.”

  He then turned and headed in the direction of the house. Aaron wasted no time in grabbing up the canteen. He handed it to Keith first, and they passed it back and forth until they had drained it dry. It was nearly dark when Aaron finally struggled to stand. Their escape from the well had sapped most of what little strength he had, and he fought against the desire to just lie down where he was and wait until morning to move. Somehow, Keith seemed to have enough strength for the both of them, and he reached down to help pull Aaron up, then swung his brother’s arm around his shoulder.

  “Come on,” Keith said. “Let’s go get some rest.”

  Aaron lost track of how long it took them to get inside the house and up the stairs. His ankle couldn’t bear much weight, which made for slow going, and the cut on his side was throbbing. He couldn’t feel it bleeding anymore, and hoped it wasn’t too serious.

  Once upstairs, Keith helped Aaron to his room. A large object lay on the floor near the wall, and upon closer inspection, Aaron was relieved to see that it was a mattress. That was all the comfort he was being allowed, however, for there was no blanket or pillow.

  Guess they’re not taking any chances with me hiding under the bed anymore.

  He took some comfort in the fact that they, at least, seemed unaware of the fact that he had the journal.

  “Aaron, why don’t you let me re-wrap your ankle for you?” Keith asked, reaching for his foot.

  “Its fine, Keith,” he replied a little harsher than he’d meant to. “I’m sorry—why don’t you go ahead and get some sleep? I’ll be fine.”

  Aaron managed to convince Keith that he would be okay on his own until morning, and finally, Keith reluctantly made his way to his own room. With his little brother gone, Aaron took a moment to let the quiet sink in around him. He tried to take a deep breath, then almost choked on the smells coming from his body. Slowly, he began peeling off the foul clothing. He took off his homemade belt and untied one of the sleeves, shoving the other and its contents under the mattress. He would have given anything for a nice, hot bath, and he allowed his mind to picture the warm water settling over his worn body. Too soon, the picture began to fade, and crossing to his pitcher, he dipped the sleeve in the water and washed his cut. Feeling it carefully in the dark, he guessed it to be about three inches long, but not too deep.

  “Not deep enough to need stitches anyway,” he told himself.

  After he washed the wound, he gave a half-hearted effort toward getting clean, but unfortunately, his water supply lasted about as long as his energy reserve. He laid the now soiled sleeve across the small table to dry, then made his way back to the mattress and collapsed.

  As he fell asleep, he hated the fact that he felt so grateful for the thin, lumpy mattress.

  Aaron jerked when he heard the door to his room click open, or shut, he wasn’t sure which.

  “It can’t possibly be morning already,” he groaned.

  When there was no answer, he forced his eyes to open. There was no light coming in through the cracks in the walls and he heard none of the usual sounds of the other prisoners early morning routines. Judging from the way he felt, he would have guessed he hadn’t been asleep for more than a couple of hours. Wearily, he set himself up on his elbows and peered through the darkness. The room was empty. Finally, he decided it had been a dream and he let his head drop back onto his arm. The next time he woke up it was to the sound of Keith’s voice.

  “How is it,” he asked, rolling over carefully, “that you’re always the one to wake me up every morning? Back at home, it takes everything short of an earthquake to get you out of bed.”

  “Well, as much as I’d like to take the credit—it’s actually Tom that wakes me up.”

  The mention of Tom quickly sobered Aaron’s thoughts.

  “How is he?” he asked, and he noted the way Keith’s face instantly became serious.

  “He doesn’t look too good. One whole side of his face is swollen and bruised, and he’s walking slow and stiff. I would have asked him about it, but Philip told me that it hurts him to talk. Philip sure was glad to see me last night, though. He said everybody assumed we were dead.”

  Aaron looked up
in surprise. Apparently, Emily hadn’t told anyone where they were. Part of him instantly became angry with her, but the older brother part of him chastised him for those feelings.

  He waved off Keith’s offer of help, determined to get up on his own. It took him longer than he would have liked, but once he was standing he realized that his ankle was starting to feel a little better. He glanced around the room for his clothes, and noticed a small bundle against the wall, near the door. He crossed the room and untying it, found two clean sets of uniforms.

  “I guess they don’t like for their prisoners to smell like the inside of a condemned slaughter house,” Keith said.

  Aaron grimaced at his brother’s exact description and tossed him one of the outfits. He took his clothes, unrolling the shirt, and something fell to the ground. Keith paused in his dressing as Aaron bent to pick up an envelope.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Aaron opened the envelope and then froze. There was a letter neatly resting on a bed of long black hair, and his hand trembled as he removed the piece of paper.

  “Aaron, what’s going on?” Keith asked again, more urgently.

  Aaron handed him the envelope and watched as the color drained from Keith’s face.

  “Read it,” his brother said quietly.

  Aaron forced his eyes to focus on the large black lettering.

  Don’t try that again! Or next time she dies!

  He let the letter drop to the floor as he took the envelope back from Keith. They both knew, without having to be told, who the hair belonged to.

  Aaron brought his hand to his forehead, massaging his temples.

  “I heard someone last night,” he said, “I should have-”

  “There’s nothing you could have done,” Keith interrupted. “She’s still alive—that’s what matters.”

  Aaron nodded, though he didn’t necessarily agree. He and Keith quickly finished changing, and he took a moment before leaving to gather his hidden belongings and re-attach the sleeves around his waist. He had no idea what he would be facing when they got down to breakfast, and he felt sick inside over what Emily might have gone through. When they arrived in the dining hall, the other prisoners did indeed seem surprised to see them. He had expected them to be curious—had even hoped some might be pleased, but the looks on their faces registered mostly suspicion and, from a few, he even sensed hostility. He wondered if maybe they had missed out on food again, because of his and Keith’s escape attempt.

  Moving through the room was uncomfortable to say the least, but it was nothing compared to the painful silence that hung over their table. Keith’s assessment of Tom was accurate—he was in bad shape. One side of his face was unharmed, but he other looked as if it had been dragged over gravel for miles. His movements were as slow and stiff as Keith had described them, and he winced every time he raised his spoon to his mouth. He was barely able open it wide enough to get any food in.

  Aaron could hardly bring himself to look at Emily. Her once beautiful hair had been cut jaggedly, almost to her scalp in some places, and hanging barely to her shoulders in others. She pushed the strands behind her ears self-consciously, and Aaron saw that losing her hair had not been all she had undergone. There was a short gash just above her left eye, and her bottom lip was split and purple. The only one sitting at their table that seemed to have gotten through the last few days unscathed was Philip, but what they hadn’t done to his body had been done to his spirit, and he sat with his head down throughout the meal.

  Aaron felt he should say something, offer up some type of encouragement, but no words would come to mind. At one point, Emily winced as the spoon hit her bruised lip. Keith reached across the table and put his hand over hers. She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away, lifting her eyes slowly—her gaze came to rest on Aaron instead of Keith.

  “I’m sorry,” he mouthed the words to her.

  For a moment she looked surprised, but then she shook her head slowly, running a delicate hand over her damaged hair.

  “Don’t be,” she answered softly. “It’s my fault.”

  It was Aaron’s turn to look surprised, but before they could get any further the prisoners started to rise—another day was about to begin. Checking the board, he and Keith then headed for the mine. After their confinement in the disgusting well, the last place he wanted to be was inside the dark, stifling tunnels, but he had to admit, it was better than where he’d been yesterday. Tom, with Philip’s help, managed to make it to their work section, but that effort was the last he could give them that day. Aaron had a hard time as well—the cut on his side made it difficult to raise his arm above his head and his painful ankle made him slow and clumsy and, after about an hour, he dropped down next to Tom. He wasn’t sure how much more he would be able to do that day before he was completely useless. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the warm rocks. The sounds Keith and Philip made, as they worked to fill their older brother’s places, echoed in the small cavern. Aaron opened his eyes and watched Keith drive a pick into the side of the hard rock over and over. His body glistened with sweat—the outline of his ribs and shoulder blades protruding much more than they should.

  “I’m trusting you to look after him.” The last instructions from his father, before he and his brother had left on their trip, rang in his ears.

  The words only served to beat him down further

  “Forgive me for failing,” he pleaded silently.

  “You’re not a failure until you quit trying.” Again his father’s voice broke into his thoughts. This time the message was comforting instead of condemning.

  “How can I keep trying?” he challenged the voice in his head. “Keith is starving, as it is—they’ll kill Emily—I can’t do it.”

  “Don’t give up!”

  “But I’m tired—so tired . . .”

  “Don’t give up!”

  “My body is broken.”

  “Then use your mind.”

  Aaron rubbed some of the weariness from his eyes then, grabbing onto the sides of the wall, pulled himself up. He may not be able to help much physically at the moment, but he would do what he could. He still had the journal, and Tom wouldn’t be able to follow him this time.

  “I’ll be back, Keith,” he said, patting his middle.

  Keith nodded his understanding, and Aaron made his way slowly down the long tunnel, collecting more candle stubs as he went along. Once he arrived at the pit, conscious of the fact that he was getting low on matches, he lit a stub from one of the candles already burning in the dim cavern. He then settled in the group of rocks Emily had hidden herself behind when she’d met him with the medicine. He took out the journal and continued to read.

  Journal entry – 17 May

  The plans have been set in motion. They’re moving all the prisoners to a new facility. I’ve been listening to G.C. talk, he’s planning to make the prisoners work some kind of mine. He’s been given complete control over everyone involved. I don’t think anyone cares whether these prisoners make it back alive or not. I told Jesse what I’d found out. Of course, he was scared to death. It’s going to be up to me alone to get him out of here. The move is to take place in one week. It will be a long journey, since the new facility is somewhere in the mountains, near the mine. I don’t like the thought of leaving with them, but I can’t let Jesse go alone.

  Aaron quickly blew out the candle and ducked as close to the ground as he could when he heard the sounds of squeaking wheels coming in his direction.

  “Aaron?” He breathed a sigh of relief at Keith’s voice.

  “I’m here, Keith.”

  “The cart’s not exactly full, but I needed to come get you. Emily brought the food. She said she’ll be back with the water soon, and that Grant is coming with her to help us finish. I guess we’re falling too far behind schedule.”

  Aaron tucked the book away, and did his best to help Keith empty the cart. He was worn out again by the time they got back to the cavern, b
ut for some reason, the fact that Grant was coming to help made him angry, and he forced himself to at least stay on his feet. Grant appeared a few minutes later with Emily and the water. Aaron tried to make the younger boys drink first, but Philip ignored him, bringing a cup of water to his brother instead. Tom moaned and thrashed his head when Philip tried to get him to drink, and Aaron went to him in concern. He reached out, and could feel the heat radiating from Tom’s body even before he touched his forehead.

  “He’s burning up,” Aaron said to Grant.

  Grant sighed and ran his scarred hand through his thick hair.

  “There’s nothing we can do for him right now,” he said, then picked up a shovel and headed for the area Keith had last been working in.

  Aaron looked to Emily—she had gotten medicine before. As if she knew what was on his mind, her eyes grew wide with fright. Aaron lingered a moment more over the water bucket.

  “He needs medicine,” he said softly to Emily.

  She shook her head slightly and turned to leave. Aaron grabbed her arm to stop her, and she whirled in fright. He instantly released her.

  “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to scare you. Can you at least tell me where it is, and I’ll try to get it?”

  Emily’s eyes darted from Grant’s back, to Tom lying on the ground, then back to Aaron.

  “They’ll know it was me,” she whispered, and tears filled her eyes.

  Aaron rested his forehead on his fist. She was right—they would know, and her life had already been threatened. He turned again to Tom. The man was in pain, and he was helpless to do anything about it. He nodded his head slowly and laid a hand on Emily’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I asked you,” he said.

  She was about to speak when a loud explosion sounded from the tunnel behind her, followed by the deafening crash of rocks and a thick billow of dust.