“Curtius,” Carbo gasped. “Throw. Now.”
No reply. No movement. Carbo turned. Two buckets of water sat by the entrance to the tunnel. Curtius was gone.
Carbo cursed. The heat, the lack of air, the pain in his throat and lungs, filled his existence. He groped for one of Curtius’ buckets, heaved it onto the fire. The flames got lower, but still flickered through the clouds. His head spun, ears rang, vision dimming. He grabbed the last bucket, threw it with the last of his strength, saw the water spread across the last of the flames, and the cavern turned black.
Carbo turned to escape, and found he could no longer see the tunnel. He crawled forward, arm outstretched, hitting rock. He moved left along the wall, then noticed the heat from the rockface by the fire was increasing, and moved right. Slowly, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realised the rock face was glowing red, just enough to see the darker patch of the exit tunnel through the smog. He crawled forward, limbs and lungs screaming, head low, bare backside now taking the brunt of the heat from the incandescent rocks behind him. His world became the next step, moving by willpower alone, right hand forward, left knee forward, left hand forward, right knee forward.
The smoke began to clear, but his strength faded faster. His arms would no longer support his weight, and he slumped onto his belly. Still he dragged himself forward, the instinct to survive not allowing him to surrender. But eventually, even the most basic instinct was not enough. He could no longer propel himself. He scrabbled ineffectually at the tunnel floor for a brief moment, before the darkness washed over him.
Chapter XVIII
Carbo opened his eyes, and looked up into Sica’s concerned face. She cradled his head in her lap, and there were tears in the corners of her eyes. Carbo stared up at her, dazed. When she realised he was awake, her mouth split in a broad smile. She thumped his arm.
“Stupid man. Scare me.” She lifted a cup to his mouth. “Drink.”
He took a sip of water, coughed, and took another sip, feeling the cool liquid ease the rawness of his mouth and throat. He tried to sit up, but Sica put a hand on his chest, and he sunk back, weak as a newborn.
“Where?” he croaked.
“You made it to air,” said Sica. “Just.”
“Yes,” came Amasis’ voice. “You managed to crawl to the ventilation shaft before you passed out. Enough fresh air near the floor to keep you alive till the smoke cleared.”
“Why…did I faint?”
“Not enough air inside you, I guess. Also, some people say when the fire burns underground, it makes bad fumes that can kill you even if there is still enough air to breathe.”
“Thanks for…the warning.” Carbo made to sit up, and this time when Sica tried to restrain him, he had enough strength to shrug her off. He leaned forward, and found the walls were rushing around him like the wheels on an out of control wagon. He put his head in his hands, breathing deeply and fighting a wave of nausea. Looking through his fingers, he could see that he was beneath a ventilation shaft, a stab of light illuminating the tunnel. The rest of his workgroup was there, all carrying buckets of pungent vinegar. His eyes fell on the man at the back, who looked sheepish.
“Curtius,” growled Carbo, and lurched towards him, arms outstretched. Orobazes blocked his way.
“We don’t have time for this, Carbo,” said Amasis. “We need to get that vinegar onto the rocks before they cool down. Otherwise it won’t work, and all this will have been for nothing.”
Carbo struggled onto hands and knees.
“Later, Curtius,” he said. “We will talk.”
The workgroup picked up their buckets of vinegar, two each. Carbo reached over to take one of the buckets off Sica, but she slapped him away. Inside, he was grateful. He needed all his strength just to keep moving.
They made their way down the tunnel, and Carbo saw how they all sweated as the heat from the rocks increased. The others shot him glances, wondering how he had made it so far in this heat, with the tunnel full of smoke.
They came out into the cavern, flinching back from the intense temperature. The air was still thick with lingering fumes, and they all spluttered and gagged.
“Everyone gather round the rock face,” said Amasis. “This needs to be done right. We all throw our vinegar at once. The rock has to cool very quickly to crack.”
“Like throw ice in hot water,” said Sica.
“Exactly,” said Amasis. “Are we all ready? On my count of three. One, two, three!”
They all hurled their buckets against the rock face together. There was an enormous hiss, a great cloud of vinegar-scented steam, and then a violent cracking sound. As the steam cleared, they saw the rockface in front of them was criss-crossed with fracture lines. The group let out a small celebratory cheer, and Amasis beamed at them.
“Well done, everyone,” he said.
More cracking sounds came from the wall, and a few turned to look, expressions becoming nervous. Amasis chuckled. “Don’t worry. It’s just the rocks settling and finding their new positions.”
An almighty crack rang out like the sound of a thunderclap overhead, making their ears sing, and a fissure appeared in the ceiling. Amasis looked up, opened his mouth to speak. The ceiling split wide open, and rocks crashed down into the cavern, the roar of the collapse mingling with terrified screams, some of which cut off abruptly.
All light vanished, as the lamps were extinguished by the gust of wind from the falling rocks, and the clouds of dust that were thrown up. Fist-sized clumps of rock impacted Carbo’s head and shoulders, small sharp pebbles with the speed of slingshots cut his skin. He curled into a ball, hands over his head, and waited for the bombardment to abate.
The noise died away as the collapse ended, the rocks settling into position. There was a shocked silence. Then a woman started to scream. “Help me. Oh Juno, help!”
A man, Carbo recognised Orobazes, plaintively called out for Phraates. That was it, no other voices.
“Sica?” he called out. “Sica!”
No reply, just the woman screaming for help, and Orobazes yelling for his lover.
The darkness was complete. It must be like being struck suddenly blind, he thought. Lights swam before him, but he knew they were phantoms, the false patterns you see when you shut your eyes. He turned his head rapidly from side to side, but there was not a hint of illumination in any direction.
Carbo felt around him, calling Sica’s name. His hand grasped a leg, and he felt his way upwards. As he reached a hairy upper thigh, a hand gripped his wrist.
“That’s far enough,” said Curtius.
“Curtius,” spat Carbo. “Trust you to survive. Help me find the others.”
“Why?”
Carbo resisted the urge to punch him. “So they can help us dig ourselves out, you fool. Or had you not noticed we are trapped down here?”
Curtius sighed, and Carbo heard him shift onto hands and knees, and start feeling around the fallen rocks. Carbo moved along the rubble, exploring, and soon his hand touched a protruding leg. He squeezed it but there was no reaction. The shin he was holding was muscular and hairy.
“Orobazes. I’ve found Phraates.”
The foreign slave recognised the names, and hurried over. Frantically he started digging, throwing rocks over his shoulder, causing Curtius to curse as one glanced off him. Carbo moved further along, and found an arm. It was warm, and he could feel a pulse in it. He followed it up to find the chest was covered, but further up the head was exposed. The skin on the face was smooth, the hair long, the eyes closed. He could feel warm breath on his palm, and he slapped the face lightly.
“Sica. Sica! Wake up!”
The girl stirred beneath him, groaned. She tried to draw in air, coughed, tried again.
“Can’t…breathe.”
“Hold on, Sica, I’m getting you out.” He grabbed heavy rocks and pulled them away from her chest, hearing her respiration ease as the weight lifted. She gripped his knee tightly as he worked, and bre
athed in and out through gritted teeth. Carbo realised she was in some pain, but she made no complaint, unlike the woman still screaming.
“Curtius, can’t you help that poor woman?” snapped Carbo.
“I’m looking for her,” Curtius shot back.
“Look harder!”
Carbo worked Sica’s body loose from the rubble, and pulled her gently out. She gasped a little as her legs came free, and forgetting decorum, he checked her for injuries. She winced when he felt her ankle, but he was satisfied.
“Nothing broken, Sica. Not even a rib. You are a tough girl.”
She squeezed his arm.
“Carbo, get over here,” yelled Curtius.
“Will you be alright if I go to help?” asked Carbo.
“Carbo!” yelled Curtius.
“Go,” said Sica.
Carbo groped his way over to Curtius, following the sound of his voice and the crying woman, stubbing a toe and grazing a knee painfully on the way.
“What is it?” asked Carbo.
“It’s Agamede,” said Curtius. “Feel.”
Carbo reached out, finding Agamede’s face, working his hands downwards over her chest. He reached her abdomen, still not encountering any rubble, and wondered why she was whimpering and gasping in obvious agony. Then as his hands explored lower they bumped into something solid. His fingers told him that an enormous rock had landed on Agamede’s pelvis and upper thighs. Gentle probing beneath showed that her lower body was completely crushed.
In the pitch black, Carbo could not exchange a wordless look with Curtius, could not silently confer over the seriousness of the injury.
“We need to lift the rock,” said Curtius. “It will take both of us.”
“No,” said Carbo.
For a moment, Curtius said nothing, his shock palpable in the dark.
“You’re the do-gooder, the moral one who shares the food out and won’t let us have fun with the girls. Help me, man. She needs us.”
“She will die if we lift that rock,” said Carbo.
“What?”
“I’ve seen it before. I’m no medicus. But I’ve been in ambushes where rocks were rolled down onto the enemy. Been on both sides of that. When the lower body is crushed, and then the weight is lifted, the person dies straight away.”
Agamede groaned in pain and terror.
“Why?” asked Curtius.
“No one knows. Some of the physicians say it is because of the blood loss, some say it is the sudden release of evil humours, some say it is just the will of the gods. But it always happens.”
“So what do we do? We can’t just leave her like this.”
“I don’t know,” snapped Carbo.
“Lift…the rock,” gasped Agamede.
Carbo instinctively looked down, though he could make out nothing. He placed a hand on her cheek.
“Agamede, if we lift the rock, you will die.”
“I know. But…it will be quick, you say?”
Carbo nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see him. “When I’ve seen it before, yes, very quick.”
“I’m broken, Carbo. Even if they could heal me, I would be useless as a worker. They would kill me. Besides…” She tensed, body spasming, clutching at Carbo, and let out a moan. “Besides…” she tried again. “What have I to live for? This miserable existence. I want to join Pamphile.”
Carbo squeezed her shoulder.
“Are you sure?”
“Please, Carbo.”
Carbo took a breath. “Curtius?”
Curtius’ voice broke as he replied. “I’m ready.”
They took one end of the rock each, and lifted. It took all their combined strength to ease it off her, and as the weight came off, Carbo heard a crack of shifting bones, and Agamede shrieked, the horrific sound filling the cavern. They heaved the rock away sideways, let it crash to the ground. Agamede abruptly stopped screaming. Her breathing became erratic, laboured. Carbo knelt beside her, took her hand. She squeezed him, once, weakly. Then her hand went limp.
The sudden silence in the cavern was as disconcerting as the screaming had been. Even Orobazes paused his digging for his friend momentarily. Then he went back to work, heaving stones and rocks out of the way. Carbo knew when Orobazes finally uncovered Phraates. The foreign slave started to cry uncontrollably, repeating Phraates’ name over and over.
Carbo made his way over to Orobazes. He was clutching his friend’s body to his chest and weeping. He put a hand on his shoulder, but Orobazes shrugged him away. Carbo returned to Sica, and called for Curtius to join them.
“Four of us still alive,” said Carbo. “Agamede and Phraates are dead. I presume Amasis is dead too, buried deep under the rubble.”
“They will have to give us a break, won’t they,” said Curtius. “They can’t expect us to fill our quota after this.”
“Curtius,” said Carbo gently. “Do you hear digging?”
Curtius listened.
“No. Do you?”
“No,” said Carbo.
“My ears are still ringing from all the noise. They must be working at the other end of the collapse by now.”
“No digging,” said Sica.
“But…why not?”
“It’s not worth their while,” said Carbo.
“What…what do you mean?”
“Think about it Curtius. This tunnel would have to be re-excavated, cleared, engineers make it safe again. Why would they bother? They will just mine another tunnel.”
“But what about us?”
“It’s economics,” said Carbo. “Our value as labour is not worth their effort to rescue us.”
“You’re saying we are going to die down here?”
“No!” said Carbo firmly. “What I’m saying is we are on our own. It’s up to us to dig ourselves out.”
There was quiet as the words sunk in.
“Can we do it?” asked Curtius.
“I don’t know,” said Carbo. “But it’s our only chance.”
“We have air?” asked Sica.
“I don’t know, for Jupiter’s sake!” snapped Carbo, then sighed. “I’m sorry. This cavern is large, it should sustain us for a while. And it isn’t too far to the first ventilation shaft. Maybe some air can get in that way. Whatever, we need to get on with this. Curtius, you and I will clear the large rocks. Sica, you try to move back what you can from behind us, roll it away, however you like, just make sure we have a clear space to throw the rubble into.”
“What about Orobazes?” asked Curtius.
“Let’s hope he starts to help.”
They set to excavating, and soon settled into a rhythm, just as when they had been mining. The work was tough, and painfully slow. It wasn’t clear at first if they were even digging in the right direction, but then Carbo caught a draught of cool air between some of the rocks, and knew they were headed towards the ventilation shaft.
After a short while, they uncovered Amasis’ body. The supervisor’s skull had been crushed. They heaved the body out of the way, wordlessly and unceremoniously, and carried on. Orobazes came to join them, saying nothing, just heaving the debris behind him. From time to time they encountered a rock too large for one of them to move, and then two or three would manhandle it out of the way. Curtius had found his pick, and when they came across one rock that was large and too wedged to remove, they managed to break it up, taking it in turns to wield the tool. When it came loose, the rocks shifted with an ominous groan, and they all held their breath. When no collapse followed, they breathed out.
“We have to go easy,” said Carbo. “It’s unstable.”
“You’re telling me we have to heave these heavy rocks out of the way gently?” asked Curtius.
“Just…be careful.”
They carried on. And on. No light. No water breaks. No hut to crawl back to at the end of the day, if they didn’t free themselves. As they worked their way into the tunnel, they had to use a chain system, like the chains of water buckets the vigiles use
d for extinguishing fires, passing the rubble backwards, as there was only room for one at the front. They rotated the front person regularly as they became fatigued, all having to crawl backwards into the cavern to accomplish this. Twice, removing rocks caused fresh collapses, and they had to retreat hurriedly, and then start that section again.
Eventually, Carbo saw a glimmer of light through some cracks in the rock.
“I can see light,” said Carbo. “The ventilation shaft is ahead.”
They worked with renewed vigour, and as more debris was cleared, they found they were able to see a little - tiny shafts of light illuminating blackened, exhausted faces. The light began to fade though, and by the time they reached the shaft itself, dusk had fallen.
They paused for breath, staring at the narrow shaft leading up to safety, to the outside world.
“How much further do you think the collapse goes?” asked Curtius.
Carbo shrugged. “Could be five feet, could be five hundred.”
“If only we had a ladder up that shaft.”
“I can climb,” said Sica.
Carbo turned to look at the slight girl in surprise.
“You can get up there?”
“Yes.”
“And how will that help us?” asked Curtius sourly.
“Maybe it doesn’t,” said Carbo. “But at least one of us will survive.”
“Help me,” said Sica. Carbo lifted her into the ventilation shaft. It was narrow enough that she could lean her back against one vertical wall, with her feet pressed into the opposing side, supporting her weight.
“I come back,” she said. Then she started to lever herself upwards, one foot, then the other foot, then using her arms to support herself as she elevated her back. Carbo watched her ascend, heart racing each time she slipped, or missed a foothold. But with amazing agility, she pulled herself to the top, and over the lip of the shaft. He sighed in relief.
“I couldn’t do that,” said Curtius bitterly.
“Me neither,” said Carbo. “Come on. We’d better get back to digging.”
They got back to working on the rubble filling the tunnel ahead of them, starting to edge their way forwards once more. When Curtius was taking a turn at the front, he hauled a rock clear, then let out a curse.
Bandits of Rome Page 25
