Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own, and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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Bennett woke, and for a few confused seconds could not comprehend where he was. Realizing with a start he was in a prison cell, and the events of last night's failed attack came flooding back into his mind, bitter and devastating. He had no idea of how long he had been asleep here, or any inkling as to the hour of the day.
He sat up taking in his environment, discovering he was incarcerated in a steel cell some ten, by ten feet square, its bars a good two inches thick, impossible to flex even for one as powerful as he, running all the way from floor to ceiling, and anchored firmly in place. Overhead the illumination came from a single bright, dichroic led light, recessed into the steel plate ceiling. The only items in the room besides himself, were a steel bed that slung out from the wall supported by two thick chains at either end, and on top of this a thin mattress that offered little real comfort, and of all things a stainless steel toilet which flushed, its cistern built into the rear wall.
Bennett realized he had been divested of all his clothing, bathed, and his few minor wounds seen to. All he wore currently were a pair of shapeless gray flannel trousers that were laced with a draw string around the waist, they were of course too short for him, the hems barely covering his lower calves. Further observation revealed to Bennett that the prison contained ten identical cells, arranged in blocks of five running parallel down either side, and separated by some twenty foot of passageway running through its center. In the cells furthermost from his own he could see his two companions Gareth and Sven, they too appeared unhurt, still sleeping it off, and dressed in the same gray attire as he was.
To his extreme left, just beyond the cells of his fellow henchmen was a door, and this was slightly ajar. Though Bennett craned his neck to see what was beyond he could not make out anymore than what he could currently see, which was next to nothing. He was situated at the right hand end of the row of cells which faced on to the warden's area, a space some forty feet across and thirty feet wide, incorporating a large wooden desk, and a comfortable chair where a soldier now sat on duty eyeing him but saying nothing. There was a door here also, this one barred and locked, and Bennett rightly assumed that this was the way out. He sat back down on the bed, unused to having the tables so cruelly turned, and wondered just how he was going to extract himself from this one, and he had no ideas.
*****
The detachment of soldiers finished the morning burying Bennett's dead just beyond the gate in a large pit, they numbered eleven in all. Nathan watched the proceedings from the sidelines in such a state of morbid fear he was almost paralyzed by it. Occasionally Captain Harris would glance over at the boy, as he took some respite from his grisly duty, for the day was indeed beginning to get quite warm. Nathan's frightened eyes met Harris' over the pile of displaced dirt and rising dust, as the men shoveled it into the mass grave, and Harris felt a flood of pity deciding at once to speak to Lord Lothar asking that the boy be spared.
Orphans were usually looked upon as liabilities in this hard place, unless they had some unusual talent and Harris' conscience could not rest easy thinking that this tortured lad without a name, would probably be gifted to the evil Krosse, ever eager for subjects to assist him in his cruel medical and psychological studies. Harris shuddered at the thought, hadn't the boy suffered enough already? No, he would plead his case to his Lord himself asking that the boy might be spared this horrible fate. At least then whatever happened, he would feel somewhat better.
