by C. Cervi
“It hurts,” Keith whimpered. “So, tired . . . can’t . . . Where’s Pa?”
Aaron’s throat tightened as he listened to his little brother’s pleas.
“He’s coming, Keith,” he answered with unwavering confidence. “He’s coming.”
By the next morning, Keith was much more alert and, therefore, much more aware of the pain he was in. Aaron had spent most of the night in a chair tending to him—listening helplessly as Keith moaned, even in his sleep. He had given him several large doses of laudanum the first few times Keith came around but, now, there wasn’t much left, and as much as he hated to do it, he knew he was going to have to ration out the rest. A few times during the long night, he had been tempted to take some of the medicine himself, but he settled for just sucking what was left off the top of the bottle each time he gave Keith a dose. Keith’s welts were large and fiery, but thankfully, none of the lashes had broken his skin. Aaron was glad, for Keith’s sake, that there would be no scars. He didn’t want his little brother to have a permanent reminder of this place once they escaped.
Aaron had eaten the carrot and biscuit during the night, but the egg he left for Keith, breaking it into small, manageable pieces. He alternated between giving him water and then a piece of the egg. Most of the time Keith slept, but Aaron couldn’t seem to no matter how hard he tried. He knew he needed to get some rest or he would be no good to his brother, but every time he closed his eyes, the image of the girl in the chamber flashed before him. The thought that it could have been Keith was nearly driving him crazy.
Eventually, Emily came again with his noon meal. This time, there was an actual piece of meat to go with his egg and he raised his eyebrows in surprise at the sight of two biscuits. He looked at Emily curiously, and she quickly ducked her head.
“I . . . thought Keith should get something too. I know you both must be so hungry,” she looked up, suddenly seeming concerned. “Nobody saw me. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’m not worried,” Aaron assured her, rewarding her with as bright a smile as he could manage.
Emily had also brought a new uniform for Keith, and the unwelcome message, from the Gardener, that Keith would be expected to return to work the next day.
“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” he all but shouted. “How can they expect him to work when he can barely even stand up?”
Emily shook her head slightly, her eyes becoming wide, and Aaron immediately regretted scaring the young girl.
“I’m sorry,” he said, working to soften his tone. “I’m just . . . I’m so tired.”
Emily nodded, this time in understanding. “He doesn’t exactly have to work,” she said. “Just make sure he gets to where he’s assigned. Grant will make sure you get the help you need to meet his quota.”
Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands wearily over his red eyes. He noticed Emily getting fidgety and he knew she needed to leave, but he had a few more questions for her. He quickly tried to prioritize them in his mind.
“Do you happen to know where I can find some more of this?” he asked, holding up the nearly empty bottle of laudanum.”
Emily stared at it for a moment, squinting her eyes then, suddenly, her face seemed to brighten.
“I think so,” she answered. “I . . . I can’t get to it just now, but I’ll try to bring it to you tomorrow if I can.”
Aaron felt a glimmer of hope, and continued with his next question. “How is Philip?”
Emily grew sullen again at the mention of the boy’s name. “I’m worried about him,” she said. “He looks so angry all the time, and he won’t talk much. When he does . . . the things he says scare me.”
“What kind of things does he say?” Aaron asked gently.
Emily hesitated and unconsciously reached for her hair. He remembered the way she had always twirled it around her finger when she was nervous. He winced as she realized her mistake, and dropped her hands, twisting them nervously in front of her.
“He says . . . he’s going to get even. That he’s going to make them pay.” She then looked up at him—eyes full of concern. “You can’t let him do that. They’ll punish him terribly if he tries anything . . . they might even . . .”
At an agonized cry from Keith, Aaron and Emily both turned their attention toward the little room. Aaron cringed, he could tell that Keith was trying hard to keep his voice low, but his little brother had never been one to endure pain quietly. He held up the bottle, once again, as if his continual checking might make more of the precious liquid appear. The sound of a soft sob made him lower the bottle, and he looked up in surprise as Emily began weeping uncontrollably. For a moment he was so startled he couldn’t move, but he quickly gathered his senses and went to the girl.
“What is it?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her; gently drawing her hands away from her face.
It took a few minutes for her to be able to speak, but when she did, everything seemed to come pouring out in a burst of emotion.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and Aaron drew his brows together in confusion. “I’m so sorry for your brother, and Philip . . . and Tom, and . . . and my father. I hate this horrible place—everyone I care about dies. I wish . . . I wish I could leave, and see the place you told us about. I’ve never been to a place like that, and it sounds so wonderful. I wish I could see the trees, and the flowers, and watch the sun touch the water when it sets for the evening.”
She stopped for a moment as another small sob interrupted her speech, then wiped her thin arm across her eyes. When she looked at Aaron, her eyes were so open—so honest, and she spoke with a resigned certainty. “But, I’m going to die here.”
She stepped back from him then—her jaw set stubbornly, as if daring him to deny what she said was true. Aaron didn’t answer right away—it took a moment for any words to come to him, but when they did, he spoke with the same amount of sincerity as she just had.
“Emily, listen to me,” he said, reaching out, taking her tiny hands in his own. “I promise you, I’ll take you to my home—with the tall trees, and the meadows full of flowers, and the sun turning the water into gold. You have to believe that—you have to believe me. We will get out of here.”
“Well, it’s about time.” Keith’s weak voice wafted over from the doorway.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Aaron demanded, whirling around and heading to his brother’s side.
Keith was managing to stay upright by holding tightly to the doorframe. He had somehow managed to get his pants on, but he hadn’t bothered with the shirt. Emily gasped when she saw the state of his back, and new tears slid from her eyes.
“You shouldn’t be up,” Aaron said, trying to decide from which angle he should come to his brother’s assistance.
“Couldn’t sleep with you two out here gabbing,” he said, then gave a soft cry as Aaron started to help him move. “I heard you tell Emily we’re going to get out of here. That means you’re going to need my help.”
Aaron decided Keith would be better off lying down on one of the cots lining the main room, instead of putting him back on the cold metal table. By the time they were situated, Keith was exhausted and Emily had gone. Aaron laid down on the cot nearest Keith, but kept his eyes open. As much as he longed for sleep, the visions that haunted him when he closed his eyes stopped him from giving in to the desire. He turned over onto his good shoulder, and was immediately rewarded with a jab in his side. Sitting up, he reached for his belt, untied it, and emptied the contents onto the bed. He had a good amount of candle stubs, but they would do him little good once his supply of matches ran out. He, now, only had four left. For some reason, he felt safe in this room, as though for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t being watched. The windows in this room, like all the others, had been boarded up, but more haphazardly than the ones in his room. There were bigger slits in between the boards for the sunlight to shine through. It looked as if one of the boards, in the window nearest him, might have fallen
off, and a large patch of sunlight shone across the thin blanket. He slid down off the cot and as quietly as he could, scooted it directly into the bright beam. Settling himself on the bed, he reached for the journal, opening it up to the next entry and, once more, began to read.
Journal entry – 12 June
It’s been weeks since I’ve been able to get away long enough to write. Things have gotten bad. The facilities here are incredible. More like a giant house, bigger than any I’ve ever seen before. I guess G.C.’s been overseeing the building process for years. It’s not the house so much that bothers me though; it’s what’s outside of it. A huge yard, surrounded by canyon walls, there’s only one way out and that’s through the main gate. A few of the prisoners tried to escape the first week. G.C. brought them all back, dead. Those were the lucky ones. The prisoners are being made to work like animals. In the yards, and in the mine—a large black hole carved into the side of mountain. Jesse’s screams are agonizing as they shove him into the dark tunnels every day—his cries echo around my head and I can’t seem to shut them out. The only time prisoners are allowed back inside the house is to eat or sleep. Unless, of course, it’s your turn in the infirmary. That’s one room in the house I swear I’ll never go into.
Aaron’s head jerked as the book smacked the floor. He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep. He sat up, slowly turning to check on his brother. It looked as if Keith hadn’t moved much, but he was twitching in his sleep, and Aaron could see sweat glistening on his forehead. He scooted off the cot, being careful of his injured ankle, and moved stiffly toward Keith. He reached out to feel his brother’s forehead and Keith shivered as Aaron’s hand made contact with his skin. Aaron tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach—Keith’s forehead was hot—not raging, but much warmer than Aaron would have liked. He limped over to the water bucket and grabbed it, along with the rest of the laudanum and bandages. He gave Keith a tiny dose of the medicine first and then, as gently as he could, began to bathe his body with the cool water. Keith gasped and flinched each time the wet bandages touched him. After a while, Aaron noticed that Keith’s eyes were open and he was watching him.
“Hey there,” Aaron said. “Sorry to wake you.”
“Looks more like I’m the one keeping you awake,” Keith answered in a raspy voice. “You look terrible.”
Aaron ignored the comment as he dipped one of the bandages back into the water, bringing it up to Keith’s lips. Keith sucked it dry three times before he finally settled his gaze on Aaron again.
“Seems like I’ve been getting a lot of your attention lately, older brother.”
In spite of the situation, Aaron found himself chuckling. “You don’t have to go to such lengths to get it, you know? You could just come right out and ask me for it.”
Keith answered him with a small smile then, once again, became serious.
“It’s not your fault.”
Keith’s words hit Aaron like a blow to the gut, and he quickly turned away as all his feelings of tormenting guilt came flooding back.
“Aaron, please look at me,” Keith said. His voice was so weak and soft that Aaron couldn’t refuse. “None of this is your fault. You know that don’t you?”
Aaron didn’t speak, but he gave a slight shake of his head and lowered his eyes.
“I wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you,” Keith continued. “Stop being so hard on yourself.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Aaron said, taking a deep breath. “You get well, and I’ll see what I can do about not being so hard on myself, deal?”
“Deal.” Keith’s eyes started to droop again, but he still continued to speak. “Did you find the girl? Daniel’s sister.”
“I found a girl,” Aaron replied with a sigh, then hesitated for a moment. “She was dead.”
Aaron looked up to see Keith’s reaction, but his brother had fallen asleep again. He reached out and touched the top of his head the way he’d done so many times in years past. “You just get better, little brother, just get better.”
The light was fading fast outside and Aaron moved back onto his cot. He thought about lighting a candle to read more of the journal, but the cost of a match was too high. Instead, he contented himself to listening to the sounds of his brother’s soft breathing as the room around him turned dark. He didn’t know what the next day held in store for them, but he was determined to get some answers, and he knew exactly where to find them. Even if he had beat Grant into the dust to get them.
C
hapter 17
The next morning came much too early for Aaron. His sleep had been deep and uninterrupted, but he still woke up feeling worse than he had the day before. His shoulder felt as if it were on fire, and he knew that if he wanted it to heal properly, he would have to do something about it right away. The sun was just barely up, and the room was still dark. Making his way slowly to the medicine cabinets, he dug around until he found an empty bowl, then filled it with water from the bucket. Dropping the cleanest of the bandages into the water, he took a deep breath, and slowly began to remove his shirt. The process was much more painful than he had anticipated, and he wasn’t able to raise his injured arm at all. He was sweating profusely by the time he got the shirt off, and he reached for the bandages. The sun had lighted the room considerably and he was able to examine his shoulder.
The entire upper part of his arm was bruised and covered with blood from where his shoulder had torn open, but it was the wound itself that was causing him concern. It was fiery red, and he had several swollen lumps of pus. He turned suddenly at the sound of a low whistle.
“Good night in the morning, Aaron, what did you do?” Keith asked, shuffling over to his brother.
Aaron looked at his arm again and grimaced. “A door got in my way.”
“What door?” Keith asked. “I’ve never seen any locked doors around here.”
“My bedroom door . . . the other night,” Aaron inhaled sharply as he started to wipe some of the blood away.
“Here, let me do that,” Keith said. Aaron watched as his little brother winced slightly, reaching for the bowl full of now red water.
They were both quiet for a while as Keith worked. Aaron had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, and Keith was concentrating hard, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“Those wounds are gonna have to be opened up,” he said, shooting a quick glance at Aaron’s face.
“I know. Just do it quick.”
“Maybe, you better lay down,” Keith suggested.
Aaron hated to admit it, but he knew Keith was right; he was already feeling lightheaded, and the worst part wasn’t even done yet.
The two hobbled over to the nearest bed, and as Aaron lay down, Keith rolled up a corner of the sheet for him to bite down on.
“Ready?” Keith asked.
Aaron nodded his head, his breathing becoming more rapid. He closed his eyes as Keith reached toward the wound with the wet bandages. A moment later, a blinding pain seared through him, white hot light appeared behind his eyelids and then, oblivion.
Aaron woke, suddenly, as cold water splashed onto his face. He sputtered for a few minutes in confusion, until he saw Keith standing above him, holding an empty bucket.
“Guess it’s my turn to apologize for waking you,” Keith said.
Aaron sat up slowly, wiping the water from his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Well, I don’t exactly have a pocket watch, but I would say it’s about time to go down to breakfast.”
Aaron looked at his shoulder and was surprised to see it wrapped in bandages. “You did this yourself?” he asked, turning to Keith.
Keith nodded and held out a hand for support. “I figured it was the least I could do.”
Aaron raised his eyebrows questioningly and, ignoring Keith’s offer of help, stood up slowly.
Keith dropped his eyes. “You were trying to get to me, weren’t you?”
Aaron sighed and tried unsuccessfully to r
otate his shoulder. The pain worked to replace the memory of that night. “Let’s just put the past behind us, huh?”
Keith nodded, and the two brothers headed toward the door.
“Aaron,” Keith said, without turning. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Keith.”
As Aaron and Keith entered the dining room, the other prisoners grew quiet, and Aaron paused for a moment to look over their faces—faces that registered shock, wonder and, from some, even awe. Aaron hoped that seeing what he and Keith had been through, and survived, might be enough to inspire some of their fellow prisoners, and the two brothers stood a little straighter as they limped to their table. Once there, though, Aaron looked to Keith in concern.
“Can you sit?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“I’ll manage.”
Keith moved awkwardly, and only just sat on the edge of his seat. Aaron knew he was suffering and, for his sake, tried to eat quickly. Emily didn’t talk much, but from her frequent shy glances, Aaron knew she was happy to have them back. Philip was another matter. He’d hardly so much as glanced up since they arrived, and he sat sullen and quiet throughout the meal. Aaron decided he would try to talk to him that evening before they went to bed, if he could manage it. Before he was even halfway finished, Keith stood shakily.
“I think I’ve had enough,” he said, forcing a smile.
