It seems that today was the first big back-to-the-gym day for my gym in Malta, so I have probably two weeks to wait before all the fat people decide that they've made the effort for the year and go away again :) Which is obviously a shame, but I like the gym quiet -- and I do make the effort to go at 6:30am.
The jumper The quarry was large and mostly circular. Around the far edge were spoil piles: masses of crushed stone that had been excavated as not being useful for what the colonists intended. There were some spoil piles in the quarry itself, pushed towards but not against the walls. A long ramp curved gently down following the walls so that, seen from far enough away, the quarry would look like a gigantic screw hole boring into the ground. Two stone buildings -- they would have been huts if they'd been made of wood -- perched on the near edge with doorways in each wall and sacks and ropes clearly visible inside. An earth-moving machine, painted the red and white of the Polish flag, sat at the top of the ramp and metal cans of petrol or diesel fuel were stacked just behind it. Tomasz waited for them by one of the huts. As they reached him, he pointed, and they saw flights of stairs cut into the side of the rock leading down to the floor. "Well, that saves us much of a walk!" said Samual, trying to sound cheerful. "I suppose we have to go down into the pit?" "I suppose we do," said Tomasz. The redness had faded from his face, but now he looked ashy-gray and tired. "I doubt we'll find anything down there." There was a firmness in his voice that indicated he was determined not to find anything. "I'll go first, and watch yourself. There's no railing if you slip." The steps were steeper than Samual had expected and though he went second he found himself falling behind Tomasz as he cautiously took each step down, unhappily aware that a drop of nearly forty metres was on his right-side. Behind him Lord Derby seemed entirely unconcerned, both about the drop and the difficulties Samual was having, which was even less reassuring. By the time he reached the safety of the quarry floor he was sweating and breathing hard, while the other two men looked as though they'd floated down in the arms of demons. "Nothing," said Tomasz, barely looking around. Lord Derby raised his hand to shade his eyes as the sun was low in the sky now and sending rays directly down to the bottom of the quarry. Samual recoiled reflexively, unable to control his reaction to the sudden appearance of a yellow cloak draping Lord Derby's shoulders. This close he could see that the cloak looked thick and soft, an expensive, luxurious garment. Yet here and there were holes eaten into it by moths or perhaps some more exotic insect. And, stepping back, he saw as something seemed to ripple outwards from Lord Derby like a heat shimmer. There was a noise like the pinging of a stretched elastic band being released and an invisible tide pulled back from the floor of the quarry. Lord Derby dropped his hand, clearly as shocked as the rest of them, but the spell of concealment was broken now.
Against the walls, spaced at regular intervals, were sets of metal manacles. Wrists and legs were bound by the manacles holding bodies tightly against the walls, splayed like starfish and cut open from neck to groin. Guts spilled out, piled in slippery red mounds from which blood had spread further. Away from the walls were three or four bodies that were sprawled on the floor with arms and legs at strange angles, and above them a black disc hovered, swirling like stirred coffee and hinting at large energies contained within its borders. "Jumpers," said Lord Derby. "Grace must have been experimenting, working out how to turn the gate on and off that Dignity tried to escape through." Tomasz ignored him, staring at the bodies. Then, a strangled cry tearing from his throat, he started across the quarry to the body of a young man. "This is... horrific, milord," whispered Samual. "War is brutal, but this is... unclean." "I think this might qualify as a skirmish in the King's mind," said Lord Derby. The silence cued him to look at Samual, whose eyes were wide. "I have no access to the King's mind," said Ernest. "Whatever he's done to me, I know nothing about it." "I... believe you, milord," said Samual. There was still conviction in his voice. "But this is no skirmish, this is. This is. Malice." "That would be Grace's doing, then," said Lord Derby. "Malice through and through." A half-scream from Tomasz made them walk over to him, hesitantly, picking their way across the gory, sticky quarry floor. As they went further it became apparent that this was just the last use of the quarry, and that it had been used like this more than once. Tomasz was trying to pull the manacles out of the stone, but they had been hammered in firmly. The body he was trying to free jerked, but stayed imprisoned. "He was sixteen!" Tomasz sounded agonized. "He had his birthday a week ago! Grace took him and the others to visit another colony, to help them out. Not for this!" "I'm sorry," said Lord Derby softly. "Does that help? Does that bring him back?" Tomasz stared, wild-eyed, at the body, and slapped its face suddenly. "Wake up! Lord Derby is sorry, so wake up!" Lord Derby reached for Tomasz's shoulder, but his hand was slapped away. "He's not listening to me, milord! Perhaps you should talk to him." Samual reappeared, though Lord Derby hadn't seen him walk away, and handed a crowbar to Tomasz. He held another, and between the two of them they levered the manacles from the stone and lowered the body gently to the ground, next to its guts. Tomasz knelt there, crying silently, and Samual knelt beside him in silent sympathy.
Greg - funny, I haven't noticed much new year's idiocy at work. I mean... uh... new year's optimism. It's just been the regular crew coming in to use the weight room.
Ugh. Was concerned this prompt might not lead to the happiest of entries. I was not expecting... this.
3 comments:
It seems that today was the first big back-to-the-gym day for my gym in Malta, so I have probably two weeks to wait before all the fat people decide that they've made the effort for the year and go away again :) Which is obviously a shame, but I like the gym quiet -- and I do make the effort to go at 6:30am.
The jumper
The quarry was large and mostly circular. Around the far edge were spoil piles: masses of crushed stone that had been excavated as not being useful for what the colonists intended. There were some spoil piles in the quarry itself, pushed towards but not against the walls. A long ramp curved gently down following the walls so that, seen from far enough away, the quarry would look like a gigantic screw hole boring into the ground. Two stone buildings -- they would have been huts if they'd been made of wood -- perched on the near edge with doorways in each wall and sacks and ropes clearly visible inside. An earth-moving machine, painted the red and white of the Polish flag, sat at the top of the ramp and metal cans of petrol or diesel fuel were stacked just behind it.
Tomasz waited for them by one of the huts. As they reached him, he pointed, and they saw flights of stairs cut into the side of the rock leading down to the floor.
"Well, that saves us much of a walk!" said Samual, trying to sound cheerful. "I suppose we have to go down into the pit?"
"I suppose we do," said Tomasz. The redness had faded from his face, but now he looked ashy-gray and tired. "I doubt we'll find anything down there." There was a firmness in his voice that indicated he was determined not to find anything. "I'll go first, and watch yourself. There's no railing if you slip."
The steps were steeper than Samual had expected and though he went second he found himself falling behind Tomasz as he cautiously took each step down, unhappily aware that a drop of nearly forty metres was on his right-side. Behind him Lord Derby seemed entirely unconcerned, both about the drop and the difficulties Samual was having, which was even less reassuring. By the time he reached the safety of the quarry floor he was sweating and breathing hard, while the other two men looked as though they'd floated down in the arms of demons.
"Nothing," said Tomasz, barely looking around.
Lord Derby raised his hand to shade his eyes as the sun was low in the sky now and sending rays directly down to the bottom of the quarry. Samual recoiled reflexively, unable to control his reaction to the sudden appearance of a yellow cloak draping Lord Derby's shoulders. This close he could see that the cloak looked thick and soft, an expensive, luxurious garment. Yet here and there were holes eaten into it by moths or perhaps some more exotic insect. And, stepping back, he saw as something seemed to ripple outwards from Lord Derby like a heat shimmer. There was a noise like the pinging of a stretched elastic band being released and an invisible tide pulled back from the floor of the quarry. Lord Derby dropped his hand, clearly as shocked as the rest of them, but the spell of concealment was broken now.
Against the walls, spaced at regular intervals, were sets of metal manacles. Wrists and legs were bound by the manacles holding bodies tightly against the walls, splayed like starfish and cut open from neck to groin. Guts spilled out, piled in slippery red mounds from which blood had spread further. Away from the walls were three or four bodies that were sprawled on the floor with arms and legs at strange angles, and above them a black disc hovered, swirling like stirred coffee and hinting at large energies contained within its borders.
"Jumpers," said Lord Derby. "Grace must have been experimenting, working out how to turn the gate on and off that Dignity tried to escape through."
Tomasz ignored him, staring at the bodies. Then, a strangled cry tearing from his throat, he started across the quarry to the body of a young man.
"This is... horrific, milord," whispered Samual. "War is brutal, but this is... unclean."
"I think this might qualify as a skirmish in the King's mind," said Lord Derby. The silence cued him to look at Samual, whose eyes were wide. "I have no access to the King's mind," said Ernest. "Whatever he's done to me, I know nothing about it."
"I... believe you, milord," said Samual. There was still conviction in his voice. "But this is no skirmish, this is. This is. Malice."
"That would be Grace's doing, then," said Lord Derby. "Malice through and through."
A half-scream from Tomasz made them walk over to him, hesitantly, picking their way across the gory, sticky quarry floor. As they went further it became apparent that this was just the last use of the quarry, and that it had been used like this more than once. Tomasz was trying to pull the manacles out of the stone, but they had been hammered in firmly. The body he was trying to free jerked, but stayed imprisoned.
"He was sixteen!" Tomasz sounded agonized. "He had his birthday a week ago! Grace took him and the others to visit another colony, to help them out. Not for this!"
"I'm sorry," said Lord Derby softly.
"Does that help? Does that bring him back?" Tomasz stared, wild-eyed, at the body, and slapped its face suddenly. "Wake up! Lord Derby is sorry, so wake up!"
Lord Derby reached for Tomasz's shoulder, but his hand was slapped away. "He's not listening to me, milord! Perhaps you should talk to him."
Samual reappeared, though Lord Derby hadn't seen him walk away, and handed a crowbar to Tomasz. He held another, and between the two of them they levered the manacles from the stone and lowered the body gently to the ground, next to its guts. Tomasz knelt there, crying silently, and Samual knelt beside him in silent sympathy.
Greg - funny, I haven't noticed much new year's idiocy at work. I mean... uh... new year's optimism. It's just been the regular crew coming in to use the weight room.
Ugh. Was concerned this prompt might not lead to the happiest of entries. I was not expecting... this.
Grim, but beautifully handled.
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