When 187 woke it was to breathe in already moving air. This startled him, and he craned up his head, but only to dizzy himself. Josef whispered into his ear. "Shush, you'll wake them!" 187 came up slowly and gasped at what he saw. The Masters! They were all sleeping not a foot from where he lay! He went rigid with terror, his breath squeezed from his lungs. Josef laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Have no fear. They must have found me when I was sleeping, they thought me dead!" he chuckled, "They knew my father would want me buried so they took me." He paused, looking at 187. "I think you, my friend, have several symptoms of disease, which saved your life, for I presume they took you out so you wouldn't spread." "Took?" 187 rolled his tongue around the strange word. Josef bared his teeth. "Aye, that's right. Took. It means to leave." He cast his eye around the Masters. "And I believe it's time you and I left on our own, without these ones helping. I have much more strength now, I think." Hesitantly Josef lifted himself to his feet, he wobbled crazily for some time before 187 thought he looked stable. With the Masters laying all around them, the two boys clumsily set off for the block of light at one end of the chamber. It was still mud on all walls, but fresh air was constantly blowing, and it seemed warmer. 187 was confused and light headed, he relied on Josef constant touch to know where to go, the dim light already blinding him. Where were they going? Why were they going? What had happened? Was it Between time? Suddenly Josef was pushing him threw a small hole, filled with white light. He scrunched his eyes tight, but still the brightness was unbearable. He squirmed, but Josef kept pushing until he was threw. He rolled out onto something soft and springy, it tickled his bare skin and made him giggle. The new sensation and emotion baffled him, but he liked it a lot. So much, in fact, that he rolled and rolled, laughing giddily. Josefs hand came down on his shoulder and he leaped to his feet, and reflex from waking at the Masters whip. Still holding his aching eyes tight shut, 187 followed Josefs touch in some unknown direction. All he could think of was a the gentle tickle of the grass on his feet. 187 woke into the blinding light yet again. It ached his head, wracked it with pain and befuddled his thoughts. He turned against the coarse but comforting sheets and thumped his head underneath the 'old goose carcass'. Then wasn't enough. He scrambled off the bed and wiggled beneath it, trying not to take the goose carcass off his eyes. He squeezed his sore eyes shut, if only the tunnels!… if only NOT the tunnels… He heard Josef stepping into the room, he was always so worried about him! He groaned softly, and Josef bent down and lifted the sheet that separated them. He heard a laugh. "Still got those darn head aches, eh?" a hand patted 187 carefully on the back. Josef had learned awhile ago not to hit 187 in any way, even if it was in good will. 187's head pounded with an even fiercer memory then the sun. The Masters…..He rolled out from the darkness and wailed at the light that burned through his eyelids. He had not opened them for three days. He was like a blind man, but reversed. Josef helped them hurriedly to his feet. "You aren't going to go loony again, are you?" he quavered, remembering to well the nights he had spent gripping 187s hand as he writhed and screamed, clenching and thrashing against the leather that held him against the bed. The light…it was torture! Josef quickly helped 187 hobble from the room, chattering away like only that kept the slave-boy sane. "My uncle thought of a way to help you, I wanted to tell you sooner, but you were… occupied, I guess, but now you can go into it, it took us all of our spare time to build, we're hoping you'll like it…" 187 spun around blindly, where were they going? No! He needed the bed! He needed the dark! He slashed out at Josef and heard the muffles cuss that followed. A hand gripped his arm harder. "Don't you see? I'm not your enemy! I'm giving you dark!" 187 knew he should listen, but he couldn't see, and his brain was pounding… he whipped around and blundered his way back down the hall, his fingers trailing the wall, not just a useless habit anymore. Helpless and hopeless he floundered in front of the doors, searching franticly for the one that lead to the bed, the goose carcass… Josef was trying to say something, he clubbed away the hands. Where!? HE fell through one of the open holes and onto the hard wood floor. He contracted and rolled, his legs pivoting beneath him hoisting him effortlessly onto his feet. Josef marveled at his strength and agility from the doorway. What must it have taken to become so? He wondered. What pain and agony had trained him so well? He was like an animal, no thinking, only instincts. He chided himself, that wasen't right, the tunnels could never have driven intelligence from this one fully. Such will he had never seen in his short life, and he doubted he would see its equal. Quietly he crept out of the door and grasped the nearest solid object, a fire shovel. Stealth, he told his body, but every direction he crept, 187 head twisted to follow him. Cursing some more, at the same time asking Gods forgiveness, Josef wondered what to do. He obviously wasen't going to knock this boy out. He backed out of the door, taking the fire shovel with him. He shut the door with a click and raced down the hall, already hearing 187 crashing attempts to free himself behind him. He rushed into the kitchen, empty! Skidding on the slippery floor, he burst into the family room, yelling and motioning wildly. His father glanced up briefly, then returned to his newspaper. The rest of the family knew Josef to well to lift a whisker. He ran to his fathers rocker, snatching the paper away from hands that were more used to the pen. His father turned kind and understanding eyes to his reckless son. Joseph was a thin man, but not scrawny. His build was not large, but his manner was that of an equal, and his eyes spoke of injustice, and victory. Josef kneeled down by his father, cocking an ear to the din in the distance. "He's awake." He grinned, "Up an' kicking!" His father grimaced then lifted himself quickly from his rocker. "Alright then, fetch your uncle, we'll need all hands." The splintering crack froze him in his place, but only for a second. The calm was still evident in his voice, however. "Hurry, the doors down." Josef raced away out the door, heading to the barn, his father picked up the small family rifle awkwardly and crouched down, loading in the tranquilizer dart like a minister wiping the blood off a knife used to murder. He grimaced in almost anger, but it was inward anger, anger at himself. He shouldered the gun, it feeling very alien and unnatural to his collar. He closed one eye and sighted on roughly the center of the passage. He braced himself, he wouldn't back out, he would do this! Nonetheless, his finger trembled on the trigger. He was a minister, this wasen't his way! But he was also a farmer, and farmers did what needed to be done. Thou shalt not kill. He wouldn't. 187's fumbling form thundered down the hall, his eyes shut tight, his hand bouncing against the wall, his world confused and unreal. Joseph took a deep breath and let it out, squeezing the trigger. 187 felt something cut into his stomach, making him buckle and trip. Pain wrenched his body back and forth, his fingernails scratching miserably at his middle, vainly and subconsciously trying to remove the thorn of agony. His head reeled back against his neck, sinking into the throb that was his life, from the light, or the thorn. Slowly it beat resistance back, and a black fog engulfed his mind and throttled it. 187 woke for the second time that day, but not to collapse beneath the pillow in anguish. He squeezed his eyes tight out of fear, then slowly pried them open. Cool, reassuring darkness surrounded him, soothed his head and eye sockets. He curled up against the dry earth wall, at least it to was slightly familiar. The stayed hunched down like that for a time that grew so long he almost couldn't remember waking up. Finally he let his eyes drift open. They adjusted slowly, but surely, and soon he tottered to his feet to explore his new surroundings. As he stumbled about the dark interior of Josephs vegetable cellar, hideous and disturbing memories crowded and fought for room inside 187s head. As his hand followed him along the wall it wavered as terror, torture and madness whelmed up like some terrible serpent inside him. His breathing became labored and heavy, he could see the grizzly whip as it crossed his vision, a thin wisp of poison that tainted the air with death. He could feel the rock slip through his fingers, slice through his flesh. He crumpled, cowering like a disobedient dog who hears it's masters footsteps, his face pressed against the floor, his spine arched so high he looked like a frightened cat. His insides heaved, producing a thin, pathetic whimper that died as suddenly as it had come, and yet lingered on his memory, terrifying him with the thought that someone had heard it. He lay for perhaps an even longer time, then hesitantly uncurled, pushing with little effect at the memories and concentrating on the thought of Josef. Josef and his world of painful light. Slowly one finger unclenched, then a hand, then two. Painstakingly slowly he inched his way along the wall, his eyes wide and fearful to an approaching Master. His whole body shook with anticipation, but he kept moving. Had he been returned to Below? The word was like a sword, slicing him into tiny pieces. He refused to believe it, the only way not to crack like a flaky stone and shatter on the floor. His hands searched franticly, but he did not know what. What? Josef? The bed? He tried to stand, but after a few shaky moments toppled onto the floor again. He coughed hoarsely and thumped his back down against the wall. He would wait... For what he did not know, but he would wait. It had been almost an hour, although to 187 it was just a very long time, until a crack of light split the darkness. 187 held up a hand against it, but it was not as unbearable as he remembered it. A small lithe form slipped through and quickly the light disappeared, but for the tiny glow on the tip of a small tube. Josef held the candle further out, straining to see 187. "Where are you?" he hissed. 187 coughed again, and Josef picked his careful way over to him. 187 wondered if Josef was as afraid of the dark as he was of the light. The boy set down the flickering candle and they sat in silence. After a time 187 grew to like the flickering light, although you couldn't look at it directly, the shadows it cast were fascinating to watch as they wavered and danced, and the small warmth it produced made him shiver with delight. Josef looked around the chamber, then turned to 187. "I came down here to talk to you, well, also to feed you, but mostly to talk. How much English do you know?" his voice was hesitant and afraid. 187 struggled to move his mouth in the right way to form words. "Small." He managed, then, "Food?" Josef laughed and dug his fist into his pocket, producing a squished specimen of a bread slice. He let 187 drag it from his fingers, handing him a wineskin when he had finished. "So, do you like the cellar? We made a chamber for you off to one side." Josef swiveled to face him, watching him eagerly. "See this way, we can introduce you to light and things slowly, so they don't come as a shock, but naturally." 187 licked both his fingers and shoved them into the flame, snuffing it. He leaned back once again to the wall, liking its solid reassurance against his inner turmoil. "Between time." He rasped, stating that that was now. Josef shook his head, then expressed himself in words. "There isn't any between time, because there's no work time. Your free now, you don't have to do that any more." 187 shut his eyes. How could he tell this boy that that didn't matter? His mouth struggled along with his soul. "No." he paused, concentrating. "Free body not free mind. Still trapped." Josef thought about this. "They haunt you?" There was a pause. "They are me." The words were becoming easier. "Is a owning problem." Josef pondered this. "Won't you forget with time?" "Don't know. Time hasn't been yet." Josef shook his head. "I don't believe you're chained to your old ways. To the Masters. You just think you are." 187 sat silently, he did not have to make Josef see to know that he was right. Finally Josef rose, picking up the candle. He stood in front of 187, a hard determination in his voice. "We're going to cure you. I cannot live without knowing that some how, some way, I can make a difference against, that place…them." He turned and made his way softly to the door. The light blazed, and then was gone, and 187 was alone with his fears once more. He put his head between his knees and pressed, first gently, then stronger. He wondered if he pressed hard enough if he would stop thinking, stop remembering. But they flooded back. The knees became other bodies, pushing and shoving against him, ripping and tearing at his sack……his sack. His other limb. Where was it? His fingers groped in the quiet darkness, its peacefulness shattered. His curiosity turned quickly to panic- it was gone. Gone! No familiar course sack, waded inbetween arm and body. His insurance, his hope, his prize, his gift. Gone! What would the Masters do? They would kill him. Dread, terror, agony, hysterics froze his mind, numbed his body. It was gone. His soul was gone. Ripped from him by the strangers. His voice tore out of his body, an enraged scream of mind chilling anguish. He flew to the door, dragging and clawing along its surface. His head rammed against it, his feet lodged and thrashed against it. His eyes were wild, looking for a way out. He was a cornered wolf, his teeth gnashed, and his predator instincts were heightened, he would fight…to the death. Finally he left the door, tattered and mangled, his strength vented for now. He stumbled about the cellar, haunted and hunted by the memories of the tunnels. He moaned mindlessly, and dropped to his hands and knees. He crawled about in misery, until he banged into one of the tall shelf towers containing the vegetables. His fingers scratched and searched vainly for an answer about the various vegetables, but none was there. He was about to turn listlessly away, but before they did a rough scratchy material caught his finger. He ripped it desperately from its hook and weeped joyfully into it's stiff folds. It was only an old potato sack, but now it seemed a piece of driftwood in an ocean of tears. With trembling fingers he knotted it about his arm, relief flooding through his body. Tears flowed freely down his face, he lifted it upward, his mouth open, his body shaking with hope and relaxation. He fell where he was and lay, the shock of being saved too much for his frazzled emotions. He slept before he woke again. He couldn't remember his dream, but it wasn't important. He hugged the sack close, but he had already forgotten why it was so special. He had always had it. Josef woke early that morning. It was a new day. He lay in his bed for several minutes, shivering with fright. It was only a dream, nothing but a dream. Slowly he relaxed. Weeks after escaping and still he was having nightmares about that horrible hellhouse! He slithered out of bed and into some clothes, groaning at the protestions of his aching muscles. They had obviously missed him those few days he had been Below. All the catch up work he had to do-! Leaving his bed in shambles, and promising to make it later of course, he set off for the kitchen. His mother smiled at him and handed him a plate of scrambled eggs. Yummy, he thought with a sinking stomach. As if the chickens weren't smelly enough, now I have to eat their reproductive energies. He sighed and thumped down into a chair, a spoonful already in his mouth. After several choking swallows of egg, he opened a small bag and tipped the rest of the plates contents in. His mother glanced a reproving eye apon his clean plate, and noted the full bag. "I'm noticing that 187 gets all the food you don't like. Eggs are good for you." Josef grinned at his mom, he knew she wouldn't say anything. "Well, he doesn't seem to care, and I do, so, it works for the greater good." His mother smiled at that, and shooed him out of the kitchen. "Chores won't wait, even for the Buddha." The outside was fresh and warm, the sky a pale, cloudless blue. Josef would have liked to see some more character the highest ceiling, but he didn't complain this time. God had other things to do then change the sky. He whistled a cheery tune and swung out toward the barn, but as he passed the cellar he looked both ways and dipped into the depression, letting the hatchway swing open just enough to let him through, and left it open. 187 was slowly adjusting to having light around, which was nice, because other wise Josef was lost in the black. As soon as he entered, Josef groaned inwardly. "C'mon, 187, I've told you a million times- we don't want you to rearrange everything every other day!" 187 ignored the boys words, for now. He scuttled to Josef feet, emptying his sack with reverence onto the floor. The yellow squash tumbled to the ground. Josef knew what 187 was doing. He fingered the sack of food, then flung it to the ground in disgust. "Stop! This is idiocy! You are not in the tunnels anymore! I'm not going to feed you for sorting the vegetables for anything yellow! Enough!!" 187s face did not move, it's eyes were wise and sad. His hands clutched at the sack of food, having snatched it away from Josefs reach. "You use your words as a Master would use his whip. This is where I belong." His words were hollow and empty, and Josef started to yell again, then stopped and thought. What to do? 187s voice cut into him from the slaves perch against the wall. When had he moved? "It is not a question of want, for me, Josef. But a question of need." The blank white eyes turned away. Josef muttered something under his breath, then turned and stalked out. The light disappeared with a click. 187 sat in the darkness, his mind a whirl of confusion for all his clam words. Josef was right, of course, he could not spend his life chained to the old pattern, making it out of things that it wasn't. His fingers traced the knot that tied the bag around his shoulder. He should take it off. But he couldn't. His will was not strong enough. You weakling! He screamed inside, take it off! The knot was crudely done, it would be so easy to let it limply fall from his shoulder. His fingers shook with tension. He was at war with himself. The Masters! What would he do, how could he survive without it?! But Josef…Josef thought he was an idiot for keeping it. Josef had said…Josef had said he didn't need it. He forced his fingers to tear at the knot, but his body fought against him, the instincts that were so delicately tuned within him shouted no! You can't! He struggled endlessly inside himself, set to resist, set to accomplish. Hourlessly his muscles clenched against his mind, all that he had learned in the tunnels he would have to throw down were he to do it. And he would not let himself do that. He took deep breaths, letting them come from deep inside him. He imaged the room slowly filling with fresh, life-giving air. Tenderly he reknotted the potato sack. Not now, not yet. But later, a little later he would do it. Meanwhile, he would have some more light. Determined to have Josef respect him, 187 limped painfully to the door. If it was from physical pain or mental illness, he wasn't sure. Summoning his strength he braced himself against it, heaved it open. This was not the first time he had opened the wide door and let the pale light of the night flood in. He had almost grown to like it's presence. Had he suffered in turmoil that long? He wondered. Tonight would be different. Tonight he would not be anywhere like Below. With the stealth of a thief he crept out of the cellar onto the wet grass. He knew nothing about dew, but was pleasantly surprised to fill the cool damp on his feet. Gingerly he turned and shut the door behind him, he did not know why, but it seemed right. His eyes were wide and overwhelmed by the sights that followed. He clambered up the small mound overtop the cellar. Endless rolling hills fountain over the land if he put his back to the door. He gaped at it, how could anything be so big? Why couldn't he touch those bumps? Why did they turn into the sky far away? Slowly he turned the sight of something so vast and so…different upsetting him. Nothing should be so large, or so distant. He wanted to feel them, to be able to reach out and scratch his nails into their dirt, but they were to far. He marveled at the large whip-like thing with all the shimmery petals for some time, then climbed it. The new height made him laugh, it was so exhilarating! From his perch he survived the rest of the world. At first the house and barn intimidating. They towered above him, held him in rapt fascination in their structure and power. Slowly he crawled down the tree, smiling at the pleasant sensation of the sinewy bark, and brushed off his trousers at the bottom. It had been some time since he had thought about the strange clothes Josef had given him, they seemed to be almost a part of him now. It was strange how he could get accustomed to such things that were so different from his previous life. He must be improving at it. Without a real thought he headed towards the house. It drew him in as if he knew that was where he was supposed to go. To find Josef. To prove he wasn't a brainless toy of the Masters. The word almost made him freeze up. No matter how long he stayed above, he would never forget Below. It was his past, and not something to forget. The path slipped by in a blur, he had not realized he was running. Slowing gently he crept up to the door, crouched over like a stalking cat. He gabbed out a hand at the screen, batting at it with a mild curiosity. After a through inspection it was easy to see that the strange metal clasps were what held it in place, and after removing them it was only a matter of laying it down before the next obstacle. This door was harder. Not only did it have hinges, but a rock section connected it to the door from the inside. By putting pressure on it he came to the conclusion that it definitely wasn't the gray flaky rock or the soft yellow rock. Finally he climbed the nearby metal tree trunk that snaked up the wall until he came to hole. It was not before many stubbed fingers that he realized his hole was solid. Lodging his fingers into the crack at the bottom, he heaved upwards, almost unseating himself. After a few tentative tests with a finger he decided he had indeed removed the frozen air, and fell into the room beyond. Silently he paced through another door and out into hall, his hand protectively running against the wall. This touch brought back more memories from the tunnels, but it brought a sense of safety also, all this moving around without the support of a wall was tiring him. He peeked into every room, but none of them smelled of Josef. It wasn't until he had come to the last door that he found what he was looking for. Eagerly he shuffled to the bedside, kneeling limply beside it. He paused before reaching out a hand to shake his friend. Josef woke with a start, almost hitting 187 with a flailing fist. "Ma…it ain't morning yet!" a groggy voice whined from under the covers. Suddenly Josef was sitting up, shrinking back to the wall. His wide white eyes were startled and confused. "187? What are you- your out! How? When? Are you hungry?" 187 swallowed, then fixed bright and sincere eyes apon him. "I want to learn." he sounded out. Josef looked thoughtfully at the small boy squatting at his side. He grinned triumphantly. "Welcome to Walhutch, Penny." It was a long time for 187, but a fine one. Josef was appalled with his lifestyle and views of bitterness at the world, but in time he grew accustomed to them, just as 187 grew accustomed to his nickname, Penny. He learned about many things, how to read, how to fence, how to ride, how to speak, he learned about Walhutch's past, about the calming of the rebellion, as many people called it, about his own past, the past of the tunnels. At first he had found it hard to accept the title Byter Company for his life, or his once life, also the fact that the yellow rock was immediately shipped out to a forgein land. It seemed so precious to him he did not understand how anyone could give it up. Mostly he did not dwell on his old life, instead choosing to be swept up in his new life at the farm. It was not easy learning everything from the start, but Penny adapted. His strength and cunning were unignorable, and his perception, overlooking his pessimicy, was very uplifting. It was not easy forgetting the horrors of the tunnels, but it was not hard to let them pass it a hazy blur of violence and terror in his mind. When he slept he saw once again the blood stained whip coming to his face, felt again the jagged shards as they slipped from his grasp, knew again the oppression that surrounded him. And in the mornings when he woke he still threw up an elbow to ward off a blow, and when he walked down to breakfast, his hand would trail along the wall. The End Back to Title Page