The Lava Miner
By
Michal Warchol
Copyright 2016 Michal Warchol
***
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Table of Contents
The Lava Miner
About the Author
The Lava Miner
They hadn’t even bothered to I.D. him. Finch futilely fiddled with his visor, attempting to disable the tint. It was a simple fix, really, but Jericho refused to do anything about it. He claimed that since it didn’t inhibit his work in any way, there was no reason to waste the time fixing it. Finch had argued that five minutes of his time was hardly a waste. Some might even consider it a steal. It’s not like Jerry was doing anything else, or that it would cost thousands to fix. In fact the only thing it would’ve cost was five minutes of Jerry’s time. Sadly though, Jerry was too lazy or greedy to do anything. It didn’t really matter which though. Either way, Finch was stuck wandering the dimly lit hall with an even dimmer view.
Anything was better than being out there, even if it were in this dirty, dingy, dilapidated hall. Thermos was an unpleasant planet to say the least. It was a mostly volcanic planet whose people never lived on it by choice, at least no one with any ounce of sanity did. The intense heat made for many rare minerals and sources of fuel. Which led many to believe the planet would be a great investment. Unfortunately for them, many companies came and went as the unforgiving surface lead many men to their doom.
A Tiller woman walked by catching his eye, and he soon found himself following her long legs. There was something about aliens that really got him going, though he supposed in this situation he was more so the alien. But he liked the exotic, the different and the odd. Maybe she would too. Eventually the Tiller led him into a bar. Sliding up to the counter, she perused a menu before ordering. Now was the perfect time to strike, but what would he say? He leaned against the bar and faced her. “Ever been with a human?” For once he was glad to be wearing a helmet.
The Tiller scoffed, grabbed her drink, and tossed it at him. The liquid ran down his plated face onto his shoulders and seeped into the fabric between the armor. Without a second’s hesitation, he dropped the woman. A ping of guilt hit him as the woman hit the floor. Grabbing her headtail, he pulled the woman up and stared down at the damage. Her jaw was certainly broken, and her cheek had collapsed in. The Tiller people were far more fragile than humans, something to do with less gravity or some other. Either way, it didn’t look to good for the woman. Her eyes were fluttering and she was shuddering.
The bar patrons were in shock. Several had their mouths’ agape, while most just stared. There had been a pretty loud and wet crack to get their attention and they probably didn’t know how to react. Finch scanned the room. It was only a matter of time. He never should have made this detour. Why did this woman have to ruin everything?
***
“Wuellimer Finch, my, my, why am I not surprised?” The Warden chuckled as he ripped off another chunk of his meal. “You know, it humors me to no end that you believe there’s an escape.” He coughed. “How long have you been here?”
Finch head-butted the guard on his left. The sound of the guard’s cartilage snapping gave Finch a wave of pleasure. The guard on his right was quick to lock him down, bringing his electro staff down hard into the square of his back where there was a gap in the plating. Finch convulsed lightly as the current froze him in place. Righty kicked him a few times for emphasis, but Finch could barely feel it. Lefty was holding his head back trying to slow down the bleeding. Finch had gotten him good. He was willing to bet he’d broken Lefty’s nose.
The skeletal man at a desk next to the Warden pushed up his glasses. “Seven years, sir.”
“I’m impressed, that’s two wardens you’ve outlived.” He turned to the scribe. “You’ve been around nearly as long as Mr. Rückkehr here has. How long has it been?”
“Thirteen years, sir,” answered Rückkehr.
“Nearly double.” He chuckled. “How many wardens is that?”
“Five. With you sir, being the sixth I’ve served.”
The Warden grinned. “He might not look like much, but you don’t make it here that long unless you really know what you’re doing.” He turned back to Finch and drew a pistol, his face turned grim. “I could end you right here, just like that, no one would even bat an eye.” He snorted. “You hear me son?”
Finch strained to lift his head. “You won’t.”
The Warden’s eyebrows shot up as he shot Finch. The bullet bounced off his helmet and flew off into the corner. “Next time, I’ll make sure it kills you. Now get him the hell out of my sight!” The Warden said, spitting at Finch.
Lefty and Righty dragged him away, as the Warden stuffed another small bird in his face hole. Finch’s hand twitched. The paralysis was wearing off, but there was no point in trying to fight the guards. He needed to wait for another opportunity to escape. Beating the shit out of the guards would only make it harder on himself.
***
Finch stood before Jericho as he worked fervently on some wiring. “Jerry I need a charge. They put me on lava duty.”
“Yeah,” Jerry said, still working on the wiring.
Finch snapped in Jerry’s face. “Hey, Jerry, come on!”
Jerry looked up as he was snapped out of it. “Oh! It’s you. They caught you.” You were lucky if Jerry caught half of what you said. “Whadaya want?”
Finch sighed. “I need a charge.”
“Yeah, yeah, after I’m done.”
“No, Jerry. I need it now.” But it was already too late. Finch had already lost him. “Son of a bitch,” he said kicking one of Jerry’s side projects.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jerry said.
It’d be at least another ten minutes before he’d be able to try again. Finch knew of so few men with power to be so apathetic about it. He didn’t blame Jerry for wanting to escape this place, even if it was only through fantasy. It made tolerating Jerry a bit easier, knowing that they both shared the same goal. It even made him respect him a bit. The only issue was Jerry’s escape was currently getting in the way of his own.
Finch examined the object he had kicked. Jerry was always working on these things, but he never finished any. Finch guessed they were just busy work to make it look like he was doing something. Finch envied him. He would never be satisfied with that kind of escape.
Jerry coughed. This was his chance. Grabbing Jerry, he said, “I need a charge!”
“Oh hey, it’s you.”
“Yeah, yeah! It’s me. I need a charge!”
“They caught you?”
“God damn it, Jerry. The charge!”
“Yeah, after I finish.”
“Jerry, no. You son of a bitch!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Finch slammed his head against the wall.
***
Turning a nob on his chest plate, Finch activated the charge. The manual recommended keeping the charge at five, but three was the minimum needed to survive in the lava. Finch kept his at seven for half of the dive before switching it down to three. He’d rather be comfortable for at least a while, than be consistently mildly annoyed at five. Lava diving was like swimming, but nothing like swimming. In theory, he technically swam in the lava, but unlike water, lava is opaque, so it was more like swimming blind. The only tell to where he was going was the sensor on his wrist. When people
would ask him to describe the experience, he would often tell them to try it for themselves. People didn’t like that answer.
Swimming down, Finch’s wrist beeped. The heads-up display in his helmet told him to go left. Hitting a wall, he placed his arm up to get a better scan. Lava diamonds, besides needing a better name, were needed for any and all lava bound travels. It’s even what his armor was made of. The more lava diamonds they had, the more lava armor they could have. The more lava armor they had, the more lava diamonds they could find. It was a sick circle of life, and Finch did not enjoy being part of it.
Stuffing the case with the diamonds, Finch made for the surface. Once out, he drained the case of the excess lava and dumped the diamonds into the collector chute. According to his built-in wristwatch, he still had another three hours of lava duty. He could see it now, The Warden’s fat face contorting in glee as Finch suffered. That was The Warden’s escape, the suffering of others.
***
Finch’s first warden was a completely different story though. His vice was an obsession with safety, and his meaning of safety was the buddy system. First Warden practically worshiped the buddy system. He claimed it would expand the average inmate’s life threefold. It was like some sort of miracle drug in that it would fix everything, whether it be morale productivity or death rates, the buddy system would do just the trick. Finch about to do his first lava dive, was paired with a buddy. Finch had never learned his name but he would never forget his face. Back then, Finch had been naïve and hopeful. He had really believed if he just did his time, he’d be able to walk free.
Finch had told his buddy his idea about starting with the charge at seven. His buddy loved the idea, having said he would try it out. The half way mark had hit, so Finch switched the dial to three. His buddy, on the other hand, had forgot, and by the third quarter his charge ran out. His buddy was then boiled alive, but just because his buddy was dead, didn’t mean the armor was. Finch dragged his buddy out of the lava and watched in absolute dread as the guards ripped the deeply imbedded armor off his buddy.
The armor they all wore was meant to be permanent. They were in fact all inmates, so their comfort was not considered as each piece of the armor was either drilled on or wired to the nerves of the inmates. Seeing what was left of his buddy was not a pretty sight. His nails, of course, had been removed. His scalp was burnt so no hair would grow and his pale skin turned gray from the constant enclosure. And then there was the wires that stuck out all over and made Finch’s skin crawl. This is what Finch looked like under his armor, and the thought of it made him sicker than any virus could.
As for First Warden, he soon realized the horror that was not only the buddy system, but also the number two in general. He made it law that there could not ever be a group of inmates with less than three people at any given moment. First Warden would even suffer two strokes before dying, forever leaving the number two as an omen of doom to wardens and inmates alike.
The room spun around Finch, he was queasy, but throwing up wasn’t an option, not in the helmet. He fell to his knees. He looked over at his buddy, a piece of twisted metal that the guards couldn’t remove, clutched his forearm partially under the skin. There was no staying here, not anymore. He would have to escape. Death had been an escape for his buddy, but was not an option for Finch. His needed it to be on his own terms.
***
Perhaps if Finch ever slept, he would dream of his buddy. Saxton and Saxton, the company who owned the prison, had developed a new type of caffeine that, so long as you were constantly being pumped with it, you would never sleep or crash. This, though, didn’t stop Finch from being exhausted. Standing in what The Warden referred as the “employee lounge,” Finch devised his next escape. He asked around, seeing if any of he inmates were interested, but the response had been quite negative.
“Dog, whadya crazy man? Ain’t no one getting out. You die, that’s yo out!” one inmate said.
Another merely tried strangling him with a rope. Finch knocked him out and took his rope. Rope was useful, but impractical. A majority of the planet was either fire or lava, and last he checked, rope wasn’t fire proof. In fact, where did he even find the rope? Perhaps the man was more useful than he appeared. The man twitched, and Finch got in position on top of him, ready to hold him down. When the man woke, he was oddly calm.
“Where’d you get this?” Finch asked, holding up the rope.
The man was quiet. There was no body language to be had under all the armor. No tick of the face, no way of knowing what the man was planning.
“Come, we’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”
“Fuck you! I got it from Civilian Station.”
“How in the hell did you get there? Took me three months of planning!”
“I got a buddy who covers my shift.”
“What? Why?”
“I’d share with him whatever I was able to sneak, but thanks to you, fuck boy, they’ve started ID’ing everyone.”
“What’ve you gotten, anything useful?”
“I can only take things that I can hide and that aren’t going to be missed. You take something too valuable and you’ll end up with nothing, but if I’d known that’d be my last I would’ve taken something better than a piece of shiten rope. “
“Well come on you’ve done this before, right? What else you get?”
“Only a few other times. Not like I go every day.”
“I swear to god, if I have to ask you one more time, what else you’ve got, I’m going fucking snap your neck.”
“Sheesh man, calm down.”
“Calm down? Are you kidding? You just tried strangling me!”
“You fucked up my runs.”
“Fuck it, what else did you get?”
“Nothing useful.”
“Just tell me what else, I’ll decide what’s useful or not.”
“Why the fuck should I?”
Finch clenched his fists. “I’m going to ask one more time, one last goddamn time, and I shit you not, if you do not answer, I promise, no not just promise, I fucking guarantee you, I will snap your goddamn neck.”
The man took a long pause before answering. “Go suck a cock.”
With that, Finch snapped the man’s neck.
***
Whatever the man had stolen, it had to be in the lounge. The inmates had nowhere else to themselves. It’d be too risky to hide it outside, unless the man was unbelievably stupid. Stupid, Finch doubted, crazy, though, was a solid maybe. There was no reason to worry about the body. Inmates died all the time for little to no reason and the guards didn’t care so long as it wasn’t one of them. There were a few stools around and the place had a roof and walls but not much else. There had to be some sort of hidden panel or something. Finch doubted the likelihood of the friend of the man having anything. He’d have nowhere to keep it. No, whatever it was, had to be in the lounge somewhere.
Finch rubbed his hand along the walls, looking for any crevice, crack or hole that might hide the mystery items. He did the same along the floor. Even though he was gloved, the wires inside hooked up to his nerves made his sense of touch just as good as any gloveless man. It helped to be able to feel things in lava when you can’t see. His hand jutted on something sharp. Getting down closer, he saw that it was makeshift handle. Pulling it, a small tile lifted up to reveal a cubbyhole. Finch doubted anyone who wasn’t looking for this would have found it. It blended in very well. How he had made this hole without ever being seen was insane. Maybe the hole had already existed and he merely covered it. Neither idea mattered though. Only what the hole contained mattered. Inside the hole were several strands of rope, some sort of pipe fixture and a screwdriver. A screwdriver! No wonder the man worked so hard to keep this secret! The things he could do with a screwdriver! He had to be careful. Such an item was very dangerous, whether it be around other inmates or guards. No one could know of it, and there was still the friend of the man, who knew who he was or how much he kne
w. Finch couldn’t keep it in the hole, that was clear, but he also couldn’t keep it on himself. He’d have to hide it again. The lounge wasn’t safe, for if the friend of the man knew what he might know, he may know to do what Finch knew to do, and that wasn’t something he would let be done.
***
Walking fast, but not too fast, Finch walked to Jerry’s workshop. It’d be easy to hide it among the crap. Jerry had a pile of unfinished projects he never checked. It was the perfect place to keep the screwdriver, until he figured out what to do with it. Finally, he had something other than his wits to aid in an escape. Maybe this would be the one, the plan to finally work. The one that got him off this god-forsaken place. He could barely contain himself. He had to hold himself to keep from shaking. Inside the shop, Jerry sat on his usual box, but usually where a project would be, there was nothing. Instead of the dreamy look in his eye, there was fear. Finch’s stomach dropped.
“Jerry?”
“Yes, Finch?”
Things were really bad. “What’s going on?”
Jerry shook his head. “The Warden’s dead, apparently he was doing his fake-out gun trick, when the bullet ricocheted off an inmate’s helmet right into The Warden’s gut. He was too stubborn or too ashamed to let anyone help and bled out a few minutes later.”
“I don’t get it? Wardens die all the time?”
“They picked Rückkehr, the scribe, as his replacement. I overheard him say the first thing he’s doing once he’s in charge is replacing the entire staff. He thinks we’re the reason this place is so inefficient.”
“Why are they making a scribe into a warden? How is he experienced in any way for that?”
“They figure since he’s outlived six, he’d outlive the seventh, so might as well make him the seventh, I guess. He has been here longer than anyone else.”
“Even if he replaces you, so what? Big deal, you get off this hell hole.”
“You really think you’re the only one who doesn’t want to be here? No one’s here by choice, not even the staff. We’re as much prisoners as you are. The only difference between you and me is I had a good enough skill to be put in a leadership position. That, and I’ve never killed. Chances are, though, after the replacements get here, I’ll be lava diving the same as the rest of ya.”
The Lava Miner Page 1
