Ruled By Fear (21 page)

    
Don’t come in.  Don’t come in.

    
Aaron’s breath froze in his chest as the man took a step inside.

    
“Don’t go in there,” another voice called out from behind him.

    
“I thought I heard something,” the one with the lantern hissed.

    
“Ghosts more than likely,” the other one answered.  “Come on.  Daniel won’t like it if you go in there.”

    
The man with the lantern moved it over the room one last time before leaving.  This time, when the door was shut, Aaron thought he could hear the sound of a lock clicking.

     Aaron decided to wait for Grant to make the first move and it was a good ten minutes before the larger man slid out from under the cot.  Aaron joined him, although somewhat more stiffly.

    
“Are we locked in?” he whispered.

    
Grant looked toward the door and ran a hand through his hair.  “We’re going to have to go through the regular door,” he said.

    
Aaron didn’t have to have Grant tell him how dangerous that was going to be.  The twisting in his stomach was doing all the telling he needed.

    
“We should go now,” Grant said, starting toward the main door.

    
Aaron had so many more questions he wanted—needed to ask, but he followed Grant quietly.  Answers wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t around to use the information.  As they reached the door, Grant reached out for the handle, but hesitated and then turned to Aaron.

    
“You should know,” he said slowly.  “If we get caught, I won’t be able to help you . . . I . . .”

    
“It’s all right,” Aaron said softly.

    
He knew if they were caught the chances of Grant turning against him were great.  If Grant was going to be of any help to the others, he had to maintain appearances.  A part of him resented the fact, but another part was thankful that if anything happened to him, Grant would be around to keep an eye out for his brother.  Aaron quickly shook any thoughts of defeat from his mind as he and Grant entered quietly into the hallway.  To all appearances it was empty, and they made their way quickly to the stairs.  Aaron cringed as he set his foot on the first step.  All the creaks and groans could easily give them away, and he prayed as they ascended that no one was around to hear them.  Aaron was ready to breathe a sigh of relief when they reached the third floor, but the sound of a hinge squeaking stopped him short.  He looked to Grant who had turned to face him.  Grant nodded and Aaron’s heart sank.  They’d been caught.  He was puzzled when Grant didn’t seem concerned and watched as the man lifted his eyes toward the ceiling.  Aaron followed his line of vision, and in the darkness, was just barely able to make out a small opening in the ceiling.   From what he could tell, there were at least two people watching them.  He turned to Grant in concern, and watched as the man lifted a finger to his lips, gesturing to the onlookers to be quiet.  Aaron’s head shot back to the opening when he heard a soft scraping sound, and he watched in wonder as the opening was shut tight.

    
“What was that?” he whispered.

    
“Not everyone here is an enemy,” Grant said quickly, then motioned for him to hurry back to his room.

    
A few minutes later, Aaron was back safely in his bed.  He’d been given answers today—answers that he’d been waiting a long time for, but he’d also been given more questions, and it was some time before his mind grew quiet enough to allow him to get any sleep.

     Aaron woke before the sun rose the next morning.  His mind, having gotten some rest, was actively analyzing the information he’d received and, now that he had some information to work with, he was already starting to formulate a plan.  It was a desperate plan with a lot of contingencies in it, but at least it was something.  By the time the sun started creeping in between the cracks, he was up and ready to head down to breakfast.  Keith was sleeping so peacefully that he hated to have to wake him up.  He decided to take a look at just how much gunpowder Tom had managed to collect before making his brother start a new day, but as he reached for the boards, he got a sense that something was wrong.  One of the floorboards was partially open, and his mind flashed back to the night when he’d stubbed his toe.  Tossing the boards to the side, his shoulders sagged as he took in the empty hole in front of him.

    
“What’s going on?” Keith questioned sleepily.

    
“It’s gone,” Aaron said, trying hard to keep the despair out of his voice.

    
“All of it?” Keith asked, as he got up and joined his brother.

    
Aaron knelt on the floor, letting his head fall into his hands.  For every inch he took forward, it seemed there was an unseen force ready to push him back a dozen yards.  He looked up as Keith laid a hand on his shoulder.

    
“Maybe Philip knows where we can find some more,” Keith said softly.

    
Aaron stood up slowly and glanced toward Philip.  The clatter of the boards had apparently woken him up as well, and he was sitting upright watching the two brothers.

    
“Do you know where this came from?” Aaron asked him, being careful not to mention Tom.

    
Philip adamantly shook his head no, but he kept his eyes down, and Aaron noticed the way he was nervously twisting the blanket.

    
“Philip,” he spoke the boy’s name in a tone that his younger brother had come to respect long ago.  “Do you know what happened to the powder that was here?”

    
Philip’s eyes snapped up and met Aaron’s for just a moment, and he could see fear in them.  Softening his tone a little he tried again.

    
“I’m not angry,” he said, approaching the bed.  “But it’s very important that I find out what happened to it.”

    
The boy’s shoulders were trembling now, but he still refused to look up.

    
“I got rid of it,” he said.

    
“You what?” Keith snapped, but Aaron held up a hand to stop him.

    
“Why did you do that?” Aaron asked.

    
Philip did look up then and, this time, any fear that had been in his eyes was replaced with anger.  “Because that’s what killed my brother,” he answered, his voice shaking with emotion.  “Did you know that’s why they beat him?  Because he was caught trying to get more.  He wouldn’t have died in that cave in if he hadn’t been so weak from that beating.”

    
Aaron sat down next to the boy whose tears were now flowing freely.  He reached out a hand, but Philip flinched away.  This time, Aaron didn’t let that stop him, and he pulled the boy close.  Philip struggled at first, but finally he gave in and, burying his face against Aaron’s chest, he cried.  It seemed to Aaron as if all the torment that had ever been suffered inside this place was released in Philip’s sobs.

    
“Let it out, boy,” Aaron said as he held him tighter.  “Then let it go.”

    
Aaron glanced to Keith, but his back was turned away from the painful scene.  Finally, Philip quieted down and Aaron sat back, took him gently by the shoulders, and looked him in the eye.

    
“Your brother died trying to come up with a way to get you out of this place.  Isn’t that what he was collecting the gunpowder for?” Aaron asked.

Philip
sniffed and, after wiping his sleeve across his nose, nodded.

    
“Then wouldn’t you say it was his final wish for you to be free?” Aaron continued.

    
Philip studied Aaron’s face for a moment, then nodded again more slowly.

    
“Then help me to make that wish come true,” he said.  “I need you to tell me what you did with that gunpowder, and if you know where I can get anymore.”

C
 

hapter 19

Aaron scanned the area around the pit carefully.  Philip had said that he’d thrown the bags over the edge, and he leaned out and stretched the candle as far below as his arm would allow.  The boy had assured him that there was a ledge on this side, but the small light from the candle didn’t allow him to see more than a couple of feet below him.  He had arranged for Keith to come get him if anyone asked about him being gone too long since Cody and Doyle were working with them again.  Aaron had been watching them carefully, wondering if Grant had told them about their secret meeting, but the two older men didn’t act any differently toward him.  Aaron’s stomach growled and he rubbed it absently.  When his hand ran over his makeshift belt, an idea came to him.  Taking it off, he opened it up and took out some candle stubs.  After lighting two, he took the first one and, keeping it as steady as he could, dropped it over the edge.  Sure enough it hit a ledge, but unfortunately, it bounced and rolled in the dirt, causing the light to snuff out.  He took the next stub and lowered it as far over the edge as he could before dropping it—this one stayed upright.  After lighting one more, he dropped it a few feet over from the first one—this gave him just enough light to know where to land.  It didn’t look too far down, but he worried about his ankle.  Taking a deep breath he lowered himself over the edge and then dropped.  He managed to land with most of the weight on his good foot, but the other took just enough to cause him to grit his teeth in pain.  After the throbbing subsided, he picked up the candle stubs and began checking the ground.  Sure enough, it was littered with the small bags of gunpowder.  He gathered them up into one pile then, carefully sitting down, he pulled out the journal.

     Journal entry – 25 June

    
The prisoners are dying.  I’ve known the doctors were performing experiments, but I had no idea to what lengths they would go.  Two of the men on my shift died tonight.  Their screams were deafening.  Jesse was wild with fear.  He was just sure that he would be next.  I went to him and he quieted down almost immediately.  He trusts me now, more then he used to.  It’s taken some time, but I’ve proven to him that I can keep him safe.  I’m afraid that I’m going to have to do something drastic if there is to be any hope of getting him out of here.  I’m not sure what to do about the others.  None of them deserve to die that kind of death.

     Aaron’s mind started to roam, wondering who the writer of the journal was.  He noticed that whoever it was kept using the term prisoners.  Grant had told him that the men were patients.  He’d thought about mentioning the journal to Grant last night, but there hadn’t been enough time.  Forcing his mind back to the present, he continued reading.

     Journal entry – 3 July

    
The prisoners finally had enough.  They’ve taken over; sadly, most of the workers are dead.  They kept a few alive, the ones that had been kind to them.  I fear even they won’t be safe for long.  My only goal is to keep Jesse safe.  I’ve hidden him away where the others can’t get to him.  I’ve got to see if I can gain control before

     Aaron flipped through the pages, but the journal ended with those words.  He went through the book again, scanning each page carefully, making sure he hadn’t missed something.  He knew it had been too much to hope that the book would provide him the answer for a way out but, although he couldn’t explain it, he knew the information he’d received was important.  He stood, slowly tucking the book and his questions away for now, then turned and started to examine the wall for the best way to climb back up.  He noticed a small opening in the side of the wall with more leading up.  Philip had told him there was a makeshift ladder of sorts, and he assumed the hand and foot holds were what the boy had been referring to.

    
He turned back to the pile of gunpowder then, once again, took off his belt.  This time he used it to stuff the small sacks inside, and by the time he was done, the belt was bulging and heavy.  He quickly knotted the end and then rested it over his good shoulder.  Between his bad shoulder and injured ankle, the climb was slow and painful.  When he got close to the top, he flung the belt up ahead of him, and just as he grabbed onto the ledge, a hand reached out for him.  Aaron startled and nearly lost his hold.

    
“Easy there,” Keith said, taking hold of his arm, and pulling him up.

    
Aaron was breathing so hard that he couldn’t respond, and sat on the ground for several minutes, wiping the sweat from his eyes.

    
“Did you get it?” Keith asked, handing him a cup of water.

    
Aaron nodded and then gasping, drank down the tepid liquid.

    
“We better get back,” Keith said.  “They haven’t said anything yet, but Cody was starting to glance in this direction and I could hear him mumbling.”

    
Aaron picked up the belt full of gunpowder and started pushing the cart back toward their chamber.

    
“Here, let me get it this time,” Keith said.  “You look like you could use a break.”

    
As they entered the chamber, Aaron made sure to keep Keith in front of him then, setting the belt on the ground, he quickly covered it with sand.  Neither of the older men even glanced in his direction.  Aaron wondered whether or not to approach them about his plan but, before he could make up his mind, Grant walked in and told Cody and Doyle they were needed in another area of the mine.  Without so much as a word of acknowledgement, they took their tools and disappeared into the tunnels.  Aaron turned when Grant didn’t follow them out.  Here was an opportunity to talk to him about his plan.  His pulse began to race as he tried to decide whether or not the man could be trusted—he hadn’t even had a chance to tell Keith his ideas yet.  Grant hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but he also seemed unsure.  Aaron decided to listen to the small voice inside him—the voice that was telling him this man was a friend.  Grant was just starting to walk away, when Aaron stepped up to him.

    
“I think I may have a way out,” he said.

    
Grant’s eyebrows pulled together at the same time his mouth turned down, and Aaron heard Keith gasp behind him.

    
“Is it safe to talk here?” Aaron asked, keeping his voice low.

    
“For the moment,” Grant answered slowly.  “What do you have planned?”

    
Grant asked the question with a mixture of caution and resignation, as if he’d heard it all before, and knew it was futile.

    
Aaron ignored the churning in his stomach and continued.  “I’ve got some gunpowder,” he said, then waited to see what Grant’s reaction would be.

    
Grant’s frown deepened.  “So did Annie and Meri, and you know what happened to them.”

    
Aaron’s head began spinning.  The explosion and then the cave in.  That’s why Annie and Meri were still in the mine when all the other prisoners had left?  For a brief moment he was relieved as the guilt he’d been feeling over their deaths washed away.

    
“Is that why they . . . killed Annie?”

Grant nodded.

     “But that doesn’t make sense,”  Aaron continued.  “Why did they blow up a chamber?  What were they trying to accomplish?”

    
Grant answered with one word.  “Revenge.”

    
Aaron took a moment to process that information.  He couldn’t blame Annie, in fact her idea for revenge was similar to his plans for escape.  Steeling his eyes he stepped up to Grant.

    
“I know this plan will work.  I think Emily’s father had the right idea about creating a distraction.  The problem was, he didn’t make it big enough.  I think if we manage to create enough distractions going on at the same time, we might have a chance.”

    
“What you’re talking about is almost impossible,” Grant interrupted him, but Aaron decided to cling to the word almost.  “Like I said before,” the man continued, “I don’t even know how many patients are still around.  There are at least fifteen that I know of—at the most there are twenty-five.  They’ve built tunnels and passages all through this mine, and they have people watching almost all the time—they know this place better than anyone.”

    
“There must be some way we can draw the majority of them to the same area,” Aaron said.

    
He turned to look at Keith, who was blinking in stunned silence.

    
“Even if we could, what do you plan to do with them once they’re there?” Grant said.

    
Aaron eyed Grant for a moment.  This was the part he was unsure of, and Grant had already made his feelings known once before.

    
“We do what G.C. wanted to do in the first place.  We get them in the mine and then blow it up.”

    
“No!” Grant’s response was adamant and immediate.

    
“Grant, these men are murderers,” Aaron continued.  “How many more people are going to have to die before you see they have to be stopped?”

    
“You don’t understand,” Grant said, beginning to pace.  “None of these men were killers.  We did that to them.  We made them who they are—it’s . . . its only right that we should suffer.”

    
Grant’s voice faded as he finished his statement.  He stopped pacing and turned to face the wall, running a hand roughly through his hair.

    
“It’s Jesse, isn’t it?” Aaron asked, and was startled as Grant whipped around, suddenly, looking fierce.

    
“What are you talking about?” he demanded.  “What do you know about Jesse?”

    
“I know that he was a patient here,” Aaron said, working to remain calm in the face of Grant’s wrath.  “I know that someone was trying very hard to keep him safe.  I think that someone was you.”

    
Grant strode toward him, muscles taught, his fists clenched.  Keith took a step toward his brother, but Aaron held up a hand to stop him.  He stood his ground and faced Grant unflinching.  Grant stopped before him, breathing hard.  It seemed as if time stood still for a few moments, and then, Grant exhaled slowly and took a step back.

    
“Jesse was my brother,” he said softly.  “I want you to tell me how you know about him.”

    
Aaron nodded and walked past Grant to the spot where he had buried the gunpowder.  Emptying the belt, he removed the journal from the bottom, then returned to Grant, holding it out to him.

    
“I found this the night Keith and I were trapped in the mine,” he said.

    
Looking puzzled, Grant accepted the book and opened it up.  As he flipped through the pages, Aaron noticed Grant’s features begin to soften, and when he looked up, he almost thought he saw a glimmer of tears in the man’s eyes.

    
“Daniel’s got him, doesn’t he?” Aaron asked softly.

    
He was taken aback when an actual tear slipped down Grant’s rough cheek.  “In a manner of speaking,” he said hoarsely.

    
“Go ahead and tell him,” said a voice from behind them.

    
Everyone turned in surprise as Cody and Doyle walked into the chamber.

    
“You were listening?” Grant accused, although there was no anger in his voice.

    
“I’ve known this one was up to something,” Cody said, nodding his head toward Aaron.  “Thought you might be in on it.  And he’s right you know?  Too many people have died already for our mistakes, and they’ll keep on dying if we don’t do something about it.  Go on, tell them about Jesse.”

    
Grant stared at the two men that had survived a massacre with him for several long minutes, before he turned back to Aaron.

    
“Jesse and I were about as close as two brothers can be.  Something like the two of you,” Grant said, motioning to Aaron and Keith.  “It was just after his twenty-first birthday that I started to notice things weren’t right.  He kept getting terrible headaches and he couldn’t go out in bright sunlight.  Eventually, he started talking to himself and then . . . then to others . . . others that weren’t really there.  Things kept getting worse. He had terrible nightmares, and it got to the point where he couldn’t sleep without having a lantern on.  He had never liked the dark, even as a child, but his fear seemed to be consuming him.”

    
The chamber was silent, except for the distant sound of the other prisoners as they worked.  All eyes were on Grant as he continued.

    
“One night I couldn’t calm him—I tried everything, but he was terrified.  He kept begging me to make the sun come up.  I already had every lantern we owned burning as high as they could go.  He was cowered in a corner, screaming when, suddenly, he stopped.  He turned around and stared at me, and . . . it was like I was looking at someone else.  After that night, whenever the sun went down he became this other person . . .”