The Humanarium.

Chapter 5: Doing Time

I have it, a plan that will assure my health but for it to work I must start converting my home. I will order the construction materials directly.

The cycles passed and Harl and Troy began to fall into the rhythm of the quarry. Half a cycle on, half a cycle off. It didn't matter whether it was light or dark. Those who fell ill or injured were taken away to the healers. They would return when healed to complete their penance, but when the numbers fell short, those left just had to work that much harder.

He only caught glimpses of Chloe. She had seduced her way into Queeg's favour and never worked the quarry like the others, although she paid a heavy price for it. One cycle, shortly after the rain stopped and the light came back, he caught sight of her washing her hair in a bucket outside the hut. Both wrists were bruised and an angry red welt circled her throat. She saw him, but her lip just curled up in the familiar snide smile and she wrung out her hair and turned away. He didn't see her after that.

Troy had accepted his fate grudgingly and was getting on far better that Harl. Harl kept getting assigned to the tunnels, whereas Troy worked the scaffold, carting rubble and ore away. The tunnels began to choke Harl. The flickering candlelight played tricks on him and he began to feel the weight of all the rock pressing down above him. It didn't help that Ryker was so small. The tunnels he dug weren't big enough for Harl. Rock pressed around him on all sides until he ended up wriggling like a worm through the tunnels. But he forced himself to continue until he staggered back out into the open space of the quarry to sleep.

Like the others in the quarry, he would climb the rickety scaffolding and wriggle head first into the tunnels, searching for the elusive ore seams that ran through the giant rock. The guards were always present, lashing out at those who were too slow, or forcing prisoners back into the rock. It felt like digging his own grave at times.

It was ironic that he was using one of his own tools for the job. It had been a large order three Giftings back and the work had kept him busy at the anvil for a long time. He'd had no idea at the horror the simple tools would be a part of, and the excitement with which he'd looked at the stack of credits he'd received sickened him now. If another order came in he would refuse it. But would that condemn the prisoners to using inferior tools as well as hardship?

A loud crumble of stones focused him on the tunnel ahead, snapping him from his reverie, he tensed ready to crawl away from rock fall but it was only Ryker.

He had broken through into a neighbouring tunnel, leaving a wider space than normal. A whisper of air came from the outside, but it did little to ease the unrelenting heat. Harl wiped sweat from his brow and shoved a bucket behind him and started to wriggle his way back towards the opening. He got a brief glimpse through the tunnel opening as the next worker grabbed the bucket. Troy had been a few steps to the side chipping away at a rock to make cobblestones for repairing the roads in town. Harl thought about calling out, but his throat was so dry that he gave up.

A guard poked his head into the hole.

'Go on, get up there. Your boyfriend won't be joining you until later. And if you don't hurry up, I'll pour some fire liquid in there after you. Now get back to work!'

His candle had gone out, but he scrambled deep into the tunnel before relighting it. He lay there panting for a few moments before grabbing his tools and then wriggling further into the darkness. Maybe this time he would find something. The workers who found ore got better rations and privileges, but so far he had found next to nothing.

The candle slipped from his fingers, sputtered, and went out. He drew in deep breaths as panic started to set in. He ran fingers across the rock ahead of him searching for the candle. Nothing. He pressed forward half a stride and then felt it, but the candle skittered from his fingers and rolled away. He snatched at it and clawed it back to him, panting and screaming inside. His body strained against the rock around him. The tunnel was too small, too tight. The blackness was too extreme. He clamped his eyes shut, but it didn't help.