As a shout commands us to pay attention to the newly arrived, I still have my pinky wrapped around Michaels' even smaller finger. I can feel his calloused skin against mine and a slight surge of anger rises in me, as I'm reminded that even a child as young as Michael, must swing a pickaxe until blisters start to brand his sensitive skin.
I remember my first day as a prisoner, when I was only 4 years old, and the pickaxe had seemed incredibly heavy in my hands. As I tried to lift it above my head in a powerful swing, as I'd seen the adults do, I stumbled and fell right on my ass due to its weight. It hadn't been long since I lost everything known to me and that small fall to the floor shook me to my very core.
I felt so alone in this place and the adults seemed scary and unfamiliar to me.
As my tiny fingers dug into the soil below me, my shoulders started to tremble, and I felt my lip quiver in small uncontrollable vibrations.
I wanted someone to hug me and tell me that everything was going to be okay.
I wanted someone to wrap me up and take me away from this frightful place full of menacing eyes and the contaminated smell of filth and unjust punishment.
I wanted someone to look me in the eyes and assure me that I was safe.
As my eyes started to water and tears threatened to spill over my lashes, I remember a dark shadow slowly approaching me, but my tears blurred my vision as it came closer. As the smell of a human hit my nostrils, a shiver went up my spine as a deep instinct in me urged me to get up from the dirty floor and hide. My whole body trembled as the smell got closer to my shaking frame and memories of my mother running and panting, as humans pursued us overwhelmed my mind. I tried to move my body, but it wouldn't listen to me. I was stuck and could only stare as the human started to reach for me with his rough and dirty hands. I was panting and my heart was screaming in my ears, louder than I'd ever heard it before. My eyes involuntarily closed, and I tightened my whole body in preparation for his slimy touch. I could almost feel his putrid breath on my skin, as goosebumps quickly spread like a virus across my limbs.
I held my breath.
But the touch never came.
Just before his fingers managed to reach me, a low and terrifying sound reverberated against the walls, which almost had me choking in relief. It wasn't loud enough to alert the guards but the human above me stepped back immediately at the ferocious growl, that escaped the newcomer.
It was such a familiar sound, and I immediately felt my body relax as I recognized it, for what it was.
It was a warning from a beast.
As I opened my frightened eyes, I saw that the human had indeed stepped away and as he slowly turned his back, he disappeared back to his pickaxe on the opposite side of the cave. He looked so weak compared to when he stood above me and I let out a relieved breath, I didn't know I had been holding.
My eyes catch the sight of two huge bare feet in front of me, and as my eyes traveled up the length of his legs, an old man in his 50'es came into view. His white hair was hanging in messy threads along his wrinkled face and as his eyes met mine, a gentle twinkle flashed in them. His face was rather scrawny, less than it is now, but he still managed to look strong and sturdy, with a straight back and a languid air around him.
As I stared at him, he slowly sat down on his knees in front of me, so we were on the same eye-level. As he looked at me, he suddenly reached out his hand, with his palm up towards the ceiling, in a vulnerable gesture. I flinched at the sudden movement and pressed my body up against the wall behind me to support myself.
"I won't hurt you, child. We're the same, you and I, so don't be afraid." His voice was soft, and it soothed my lonely heart as it beat painfully in my chest. I looked at his exposed wrist and slowly crawled towards it in a careful crouch. My eyes flickered between his wrist and his gentle brown eyes, searching for any sign of danger or deceit. As I reached his wrist, I hesitated but a gentle nudge from him, encouraged me.
"Go on. There's nothing to be afraid of, love". I slightly bowed my head down and as my nose touched his wrist and I pulled his smell into my lungs, tears once again spilled from my eyes. Even though his smell was far from familiar to me, the smell of beast and safety was so ingrained in my very being, that I couldn't help but let out a quiet sob. Before I knew it, I'd already jumped straight into his arms as I hid away in his embrace and breathed in the smell of familiarity and the feeling of being safely tucked away from the horrors around me. He's not a human. He's a beast like my mother and me. He's family.
As his arms wrapped around my trembling frame, I felt his hand stroke my back in comforting pats and his voice entered my ears as he held me close.
"Shh... It's alright now. I won't let him hurt you, love. You're alright, I got ya. I got ya".
That was 8 years ago and as I look at Michael, I send a gentle and encouraging smile his way. He seems even smaller than I was, but unlike me, he still manages to smile at the people around him. His eyes are huge and round, as they stare at me in a slightly naive manner. He seems so innocent with his red cheeks and if I could, I would hide him away from all the horrors of this awful place. My hands are aching to shield his eyes and keep that innocent sparkle in his eyes alive.
Sadly, I cannot do that, but at least his father is the doting sort, so wherever Michael is, Mathias is only a short distance away.
As the door to the guards' quarters opens on worn hinges, three people walk through the dark doorway, as their steps echo in the aching silence, which fills the cave. You can barely hear us breathe as they walk across the floor, with the Overseer in the front and two guards at the back.
The overseers and the guards rotate their shifts, which means that they change every day according to their schedule. Currently, there's two Overseers rotating and 6 guards, who also rotate with two being on each shift. That means, that we always have one Overseer, who runs the show and two guards to enforce the Overseers bidding.
I know all their faces by now and usually also what makes them tick. The Overseer of today is called Frank and he carries himself with a proud arrogance, which doesn't match his small height. He's probably trying to compensate for his missing centimeters with his loathsome attitude, but in my mind, it doesn't really seem to work.
He only seems pathetic, but that doesn't mean he can't hurt you.
As his chubby legs carries him through the door, it seems as if his entire face jiggles like a caught worm. His chin has multiple layers, which attest to his carefree life, while his skin seems very pale against the dark room, but I know, that he gets more sunlight, than any one of us combined. His eyes are wide and staring, while his eyebrows seem to have lost some of their hairs, as small patches of skin peaks through. It's the same, with the hair on his scalp and his giant forehead could probably reflect a lot of the light in here. As small drops of sweat run down his throat and onto a finely pressed, dark grey shirt with long, almost silky sleeves, I suppress the urge to giggle at this pompous human, prancing around like a show horse. As his brown leather boots slowly loses their shine in the dirty dust filled room, he glances down at them in a dissatisfied manner, as if blaming the floor for sullying his footwear. He would usually give us that very same look, as if blaming us for sullying his very life with our existence.
As he crosses the room in an arrogant stride, the keys on his belt jingles to the beat of his footsteps, as if mocking us. On the other side of his belt, a beautifully decorated whip glistens in its frenzy and small metal spikes can be spotted on the edge of its tail.
His eyes scan the room and as they meet the discouraged eyes of the prisoners, there's only disgust and a slight sense of glee found in them. As he reaches a small podium by the wall, closest to the entrance, his feet carry him up the 4 steps, as he suddenly towers above our heads. His eyes show an obvious pleasure at looking down at us from above and I can't help but wish, that he would fall flat on his pudgy face and swallow a mouthful of soil.
I bet even the floor would give way to his solid frame. I bite my tongue as the picture enters my mind and a small chuckle threatens to escape my dry lips. I savor the picture and take a deep breath as my features returns to being neutral and indifferent.
Behind his back, saunters the chosen guards for today and as they come into view, a sense of withheld relief flashes through the crowd.
Out of the six guards, Jerry, and Steven, are probably the mildest of them all. It's not like they're particularly nice or caring or anything of that sort, but they don't seem to take as much pleasure in torturing us like the others do. In a way, they resemble each other quite a bit with their tall, lanky frames and thin shoulders, while they're still in great shape but on the leaner side.
Jerry has a top of dark brown hair, which gently lays on his shoulders, while Stevens' is cropped as short as it can be, without being bald.
When I look closely, I can barely make out the fine hairs, the color of a strawberry blond, on his scalp, which contradicts his tanned skin.
They're both wearing the same uniform with black cargo pants with multiple pockets and a pressed shirt in a slightly darker color than the Overseers' shirt, which is tucked into their pants. On their belts are different tools to keep us in line with, which of course includes another whip, to our delight. Besides the whip, there's also a remote control, which hangs in a harness on the belt. This remote connects to the collars, which adorns me and my fellow inmates' necks and they're the only thing preventing me and my kind from outright killing them, tempting as it is.
The Overseer, Frank, has a remote just like them, but he usually keeps his in his pocket instead of in the harness. I guess, he finds it easier to reach this way.
The remotes work by utilizing the stones, which we are currently digging for, called elemental stones. There are different types of these things, and they are supposedly extremely valuable, as they can be used for either personal use or industrial use. The ones that are currently fueling the remotes and our collars are of the lightning type, and to our displeasure, they are quite powerful in their might.
As Jerry and Steven move to either side of the podium, they straighten their backs and clasps their hands behind them, as they stand at attention. Their eyes wander across the room and search all of our faces for any change in obedience, but they find nothing of the sort.
Frank has his eyes trained on my group and I feel his stare penetrate my bones, as his eyes find mine. My first instinct is to stare this tiny human down and assert my dominance over his puny frame, but I fight the urge and force myself to look down at the ground in a submissive gesture. I can feel him smiling, even though my eyes are no longer on him, and I immediately feel sick to stomach. My back tenses in protest to my action and only the small fingers, that still clasp my hand, calms me down. Recently it's been harder and harder to avoid a confrontation and I feel my fingers tingling at the thought of getting Frank alone, were it not for my restrictive collar.
"'Morning gentlemen.". It is Frank, who starts addressing the unwilling crowd and I see a mocking smile slowly form on Jerrys' face. The word gentlemen is just Franks' way of charming us and it's only made more obvious by the overly enthusiastic wave of Franks' jiggly arms.
"You've all been working very hard and that makes me extremely happy as your Overseer. I speak very highly of you and your efforts." He smiles nauseatingly sweet in the direction of the crowd, as if he's honestly praising us.
"As of today, you're gonna work slightly harder than usual, but I believe in you. The demand for our stones is increasing and it is our job to meet that need."
Our job, my ass! We have barely been able to keep up with the quota until now and as of today, they want to increase it even further? They might as well just tell us not to rest.
Maybe that's their goal? Even if it isn't, this one could prove almost impossible to accomplish.
As the words of Frank fall on the restless audience, he probably sees the same unwillingness, that I am currently feeling. He isn't fooling anyone with his pretty speech. The words of a snake can not be relied upon, but as his eyes slowly darken, he continues in a calmer voice.
"Don't forget where you are. You are in a concentration mine. In Umbra..." His words paused, as his eyes wandered coldly across the crowd. I can see him observing the effect, his words had produced. Here is this small man in his thirties, with crime written all over his forehead and his gaze. Yet it is us who are the prisoners and not him.
He looks at us, as one would a pack of infected dogs clinging to life.
As if we are unworthy of his attention.
We are expendable.
"Remember," he went on. "Remember it always, let it be burned in your memories. You are in Umbra. And Umbra is not a convalescent home or a daycare. It is a concentration mine and you must all pay for your sins through valuable labor.. Here, you must work. If you don't, you will go straight into the very earth, that you're digging. Work or earth – The choice is yours." With eyes sharper than flint, a hint of sadistic pleasure creeps into his pupils. He's enjoying his little moment of glory.
Let him have his moment.
A single moment is worth giving up, if we can trade it for forever later. Even if forever comes far later, than is wanted, it will still be wanted just the same.
As his words sink in, a deafening silence fall over the cave, as a sneer forms on his chapped lips. A glistening tongue slowly creeps over his lower lip as he sends a smirk our way. No one utters a sound, and every breath is silent as our own reality once again comes crashing down over our heads.
Over the years, I've slowly gotten used to the feeling of being trapped in a cage but even I feel my courage sinking at his words. I marvel at the fact, that they can think nothing of our suffering and still go home to their own families and enjoy their daily life.
I've slowly come to the conclusion, that this behavior must be what makes them human.
A slight rustle, to my right side, from a man across the room, alerts me before the person opens his mouth.
"But, but… But Sir! We can barely keep up as it is!" The voice is raspy and an obvious victim of dust and an unhealthy climate. A slight accent colors his pronunciation as the words leave his tongue. From my position, I can barely see the top of his head, which is filled with saggy brown hair, that reaches past his ears. As he takes a step forward towards the podium, his frame comes into view and I notice that his body has a mildly fuller form, than most of us.
Like the rest of us, his cheeks are hollowed and his lips thin and chapped, while his eyes have begun to slightly droop at the ends, causing his expression to look hopeless and mournful, but his eyes still contain traces of stubbornness.
Unlike many others, his clothes still cover quite a lot of his frame and even his shoes look less worn out. I can already feel the greed of the people around him simmer like a slow boil. My guess is, that he hasn't been down here for that long judging by the state of his clothes and his slightly fuller frame.
As I do not recognize his voice as one of my kind, I honestly don't really care for his little act of bravery or the predicament, he's put himself in. I turn my head towards the front yet again, while giving Michael a little squeeze with my fingers. The strangers' voice grates upon my sensitive ears as he continues his protest.
"If you continue to raise the quota like this , you won't have any workers left, so what's the point anyway?! It's too much!" He started shouting as his words formed the sentence, as if the injustice of the situation was unfathomable to him. I looked down as a tiny puff of air left my lips in a small inaudible laugh.
How hilarious.
And very… Very stupid.
The voice of Frank pulls my sight back up, and while my features tell no tales of my entertainment, a small part of me look forward to the show. Unlike me and a few others, there will always be the fools, who underestimate the consequences of speaking up. The gathered crowd can all feel the quietness descend upon the room as if in anticipation. Some will see this as a warning. Others will see it as entertainment. Personally, I find it hard to differentiate between the two now.
"Oh my… My, my, my… How very thoughtless of me, indeed.". Frank almost manages to look slightly concerned, were it not for the grin hiding behind his raised hand. I notice a bulking ring on his middle finger, which shimmers according to the flickering torches on the walls.
"Let me… Wait, what is your name?" Frank continues. As he talks, his head slightly leans to the side in a contemplating posture.
"Uhm. My name is Wi...William, William Adams, Sir. I meant no disrespect". I hear the stutter as he answers and his back quickly trembles with his words.
"Mr. Adams. Thank you for your input. You seem like a very honest man and honesty is a good quality. A quality which few people possess nowadays, and which should be rewarded". If you've ever seen the way a snake slowly approaches its victim and captures it with their eyes, then you would be able to visualize this scene. As a predator myself, the glee in Franks eyes is hard to miss. The glee of having found a toy to play with. The funny thing is, that the toy in question rarely knows it's being played.
"Thank you, Sir! Thank you very much!". As a relieved smile blooms on Williams face, I can't help but glance at the face of Michael below me. As his blue eyes meet mine, I send a calming smile his way. I pull him slightly closer to my frame, so he now stands up against my side. We're still standing within the protection of our kind, but it never hurts to be prepared.
"Oh, don't thank me, Mr. Adams. Let me see, what would be good?" Frank shows his teeth in a toothy grin as he innocently puts his hand to his chin and slowly strokes it, as he considers the reward. Even from here, I can see the yellow stains of tobacco around his fingernails as he lets his mind wander.
"Hmm… I know! Why don't we invite your family to join us?" As the words descends upon the room, a blossoming smile divides Franks face in two. Grinning from ear to ear, his face contorts into a grotesque mimic of a horrible nightmare as his excitement overflows. I move my eyes to William, who before had an almost hopeful expression, but now looks as if the world is crashing down on him. His mouth is slightly open, and his lower lip vibrates in protest. As the shock leaves his body, he starts screaming towards the podium.
"What do you… No! No, you can't! You can't do that!" His voice cracks as he rages, as if even his tongue feels the shock of the situation.
"Oh, but I can. You said, you were worried, we wouldn't have any workers left, right? I'm sure, your family would love to join us here. Don't you agree? You must miss them terribly". His words wrap around the panicking frame of William like the tail of a python.
"I didn't mean it like that! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't! I'll do anything. I don't care about the quota, just please leave my family alone! … I beg you, please." As Williams cries turns to begging, his body collapses on the floor in a sorry heap of meat, as his body shakes with his sobs. He just lays there as his tears soak the dirt below him as if his body can no longer keep him up. It was a stupid move on his part, but I guess, that should be obvious now.
A small sliver of disgust rises in me at both this pathetic human, who couldn't shut his mouth, but also pure unadulterated hatred of the man standing above our heads, gleefully watching the effect of his words.
As I watch Frank, I hear his breathing accelerate to small pants as if the situation not only entertains him, but also excites him. He's a sadistic pig, who only feels powerful, when everyone else is below him.
My eyes follow his every move as he suddenly walks forward towards the edge of the podium. As he reaches the edge, his body slowly descends into a crouch as he sits down with his legs swinging over the edge like an innocent child. One leg replaces the next one, as he swings them back and forth, while he absorbs the pain on Williams frame with a twinkle in his eyes.
The guards, Steven, and Jerry, quickly follow suit and have now positioned themselves at his sides, yet again like two living statues. Their posture reveals nothing, but their eyes betray their satisfaction.
"Oh Willy… William, my dear William. A reward is supposed to be given! Not taken back, you should know that". At his words, William raises his head and locks eyes with the slithering pupils of Frank. He doesn't get a chance to speak before Frank drops another bomb on him.
"You know what? I'll do you another favor." Frank says, as his smile grows even more sinister and revolting in its might. "I remember… you have the sweetest daughter, don't you?" A sickening feeling enters my stomach as I register his statement. I feel some of the other prisoners turn slightly restless as well and out of the corner of my eyes, I see Mathias clench his fists so hard, blood starts to paint his skin a vivid red. His eyes make contact with mine and we both send a quick glance towards the small child next to me with the innocent blue eyes. I slowly caress his black curls and feel them wrap around me in soft little tugs, and feel my heart warm by the touch.
I start to wonder how old Williams daughter is.
I start to wonder what kind of sick debauchery Frank is thinking of, but I feel like I already know, even though the very thought makes me wanna bite something.
Or someone.
"You can't… You can't. You're not thinking of, no! No, you can't touch her! You stay away from my daughter, you hear me! You hear me?!" I see Wiiliams eyes change and body shake as he rises from the floor in front of the podium. Such a small and thin frame, but the anguish in his voice manages to fill up the entire cave with it's echoes. As his voice reaches the ceiling, it reverberates in all of us.
"It seems like our friend is getting too excited now… Remove him from my sight and take good care of him until his family arrives." At Franks calm statement, Steven and Jerry walk forward and catches William as he rushes toward Frank in a raging frenzy. Their hands tighten around Williams flailing arms, as he's flung to the floor on his stomach and pressed down into the dust. The sound of Williams rough and panicked screams stirs some of the people around them to move in closer, as if they wish to help him.
"Let me go! I won't let you, I won't let you hurt her! She's only a child!" His voice is muffled by the dirt and the pressure from the guards, but his voice still carries the weight of his panic and rage across the room.
The guard, Steven, quickly realizes, that some of the other prisoners are slowly moving in to assist William, but no panic or worry enters his features. A quick smile on his lips, which disappears just as quickly as it appears, makes my hair stand on end.
A sudden realization, make me tighten my grip on Michael and pull him closer, as the chaos waits to erupt around the guards holding William down. I lock eyes with Michael and quickly whispers in his ears, as I hug him close to me.
"Close your eyes and count to 12… it'll be over quick. Don't open your eyes". I feel his body trembling as he nods his little head, which makes his curls bounce with the movement.
I quickly set my sights on the collar around his neck and try to carefully push my fingers down to rest between his throat and the collar. I spread my fingers wide, so the collar barely touches his exposed skin and as I prepare myself for the pain, I see Mathias turn around towards us with worry etched on his features, since he's too far away. I nod in his direction and look towards the guards holding down a fighting William and the approaching prisoners, who are stupid enough to try to help him.
I see Frank sitting on the podium, still swinging his legs, with that same disgusting grin on his face. In his hand lies the remote which connects to our collars. A soft "click"" from a button being pressed, announces the start of our punishment.
As the click fades away, it gives way to a rising symphony of agony and pain contorted by bodies dropping to the floor. Bodies writhe in the dust as they quickly lose motor function and the ability to formulate words and sentences. As our bodies battle the current torturing our bodies with its unrelenting fury, shakes overtake our bodies with its thirst for causing havoc in our veins.
In this singular moment, I cling to Michael as my fingers try to shield him from the menacing electricity, the dreadful collar tries to punish him with.
The collar I'm desperately trying to hold away from his skin, is made from the very stones, we dig for.
It seems almost ironic that we ourselves have created the materials for our chains.
As long as my flesh is between Michaels throat and the collar, he'll only feel a slight tingle travel down his body. Almost as if he's been sitting for too long or if his leg falls asleep. Just a slight tingle, that he won't have to bear.
I can handle the rest.
I feel the electrical charges spread from both the collar around my neck and Michaels', as they dig their way through my veins and tendons, as they search for a way to escape. A tingling sensation quickly becomes burning acid, as my muscles contract and convulse in waves.
I squeeze my eyes from the rising pressure of the blood rushing to my head, while my heartbeat aches against my ears, as if it might burst any second.
I can't control the twitching, but I try to tighten my arms as much as I can. If I can just keep my arms still, I don't mind if everything else breaks apart in the process.
I grit my teeth as I feel my stomach churning and a sudden crash of nausea fills me, but the electrical torture keeps me from finding relief. My lungs feel heavy, and my breathing grows labored, as my body fights for control in an unfair battle.
Over the years, I've grown somewhat accustomed to the fiery currents attacking my body, when it's only from my own collar, unlike many others who have already fainted from the assault. Some still lie screaming or try to withstand it, mostly my kind, but without much luck.
As I shield Michael and absorb the electricity from his collar and my own, the two different currents seem to fight and bend according to their own will inside my nerves.
It hurts.
It hurts so much.
I can barely breathe from the currents rampaging through my body as they fight for supremacy. I've been through it before and I can handle it, but the magnitude of the currents is so ferocious in their pursuit of my surrender, that my knees crumble under me.
I barely feel the rough surface scrape against my knees from the impact, as I focus on holding on to Michaels collar, as I fall. We're now at eyelevel, but all I see are black spots covering my vision and a small blurry figure in front of me with bouncy curls.
My ears are ringing, and my skull feels like its fracturing from the inside.
A muffled sound almost penetrates the screaming around me, but I can barely register it. My heart is beating too loud. Too fast.
Another wave of currents rip through my body from the two collars ans they try to make me let go.
It would be so much easier to let go.
But I can't.
I won't.
I can feel the warmth from Michael, as the backs of my hands touch his skin.
This is alright.
I'm alright.
He's alright.
Suddenly the small, muffled sound becomes a voice. A voice no louder than a gentle breeze in the summertime, whispers close to my ear.
"6." Barely louder than a ray of sunshine.
"7." As soft as the feathers on a sparrow.
The counting continues and I cling to that voice as I keep my hands on his collar and absorb the effect from both his and mine.
"8". We're both counting now.
"9". Fire scorches my blood as it breaks down my flesh.
"10". My voice is hoarse from the pain and his is unsteady from crying.
"11". His voice is clear and mine is firm.
"12". The pain dissipates.
12 seconds exactly.
My eyes slowly open and as the black spot fade away together with the pain, I'm greeted by sparkling blue eyes dusted with teary pearls. His face looks worried and scared, but a small light enters his eyes as my expression relaxes. I raise my right hand and pinch his soft cheek as I wink at him.
"Good job, squirt". I send a smile his way, as I compliment his counting skills and his smile almost makes me forget about the state of my body. It still hurts like hell, but at least it's more of a dull ache now that the currents have stopped.
I quickly look around and wait a few seconds, before I rise to my feet in an overly and dramatical manner, as if I can barely get my muscles to obey me. My body is shaky and unsteady but there's no need to draw any unnecessary attention, if I can avoid it.
Before I rise, at least half of the prisoners are getting back on their feet and no one will find it odd.
Only the thankful smile from Mathias and the eyes of Michael bears witness to what I did.