A Future Torn: Chapter 5 - The Final Straw
14 May 2016LordPsymon
Previous chapter.A Future Torn: Chapter 5 - The Final Straw
---Two Years Later---
Three years of slavery is enough to break any man. I forgot what a fresh breeze felt like, forgot what it was like to enjoy a proper meal, forgot what joy felt like. I kept going day by day, though I lost track of what day it was, and how long I had been going on here. I did not wish to live any more, but I did not want to die. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that maybe, one day, I’d find an opportunity to break out and free myself, though I knew I’d more likely get shot. Either option was just as appealing.
Luke and I often discussed ways we could distract the guards and steal a ship out. We would talk about the things we would do once we were free. Luke said he would find Emily and rekindle the relationship he missed out on. He continued to write her letters. It was the one thing that kept him going. I always said that I would keep the ship we stole, move back to Cubeo and start a life as a pilot. I had always wanted to see the stars, but not in the restrictive ways these bastards had me to so in the crappy little Sidewinder I had become accustomed to.
Luke was forced to fight in The Pit several times over the years. Each time, losing more of his will to continue. He believed that he had become a monster. He was not the man I had met when I first arrived here. He had no more optimism and very little drive left in him. His letter writing became less frequent. He barely ate, and he spoke with almost no tone, like there was very little Luke left in him. I was the only person he spoke to for several months.
---Mess Hall---
Luke had just fought in The Pit again. He had taken quite a beating this time and was limping heavily on his left leg. I grabbed his arm and hoisted it over my shoulder and helped him walk to the mess hall. It resembled a mess hall from a prison colony, with dim lighting and rows of worn out chairs and tables, grey and rusty from the lack of maintenance. The kitchen at the end of the mess hall smelled like the usual slop that we were fed daily. Hot, bland but nutritious enough to make sure we’re able to work.
I helped Luke to a table in the corner, away from other slaves where we usually sat. He sat down on the opposite side of the table to me and slumped his head into his hands.
“I don’t know why you bother to help me, Simon,” he weapt.
“Because I need you alive Luke.” I replied.
He looked up at me, sweat and blood trickling down his forehead. “Why? Why do you need me alive?”
“Because when we bust out of this place, I need you by my side.”
He scoffed. “What’s the point? We’ll just get killed. Even if we did make it out, what’s out there for us now?”
I raised my eyebrow. “What about Emily? You still have a wedding to attend, Luke. What about the people you were close with? Mike, your best man? We will get out of here, one way or another!”
Luke rested his forehead back into his hand.
“They probably all think I am dead. Emily has probably moved on.” He started to weep more noticeably. “God, I miss her so much. Her blue eyes. Her curly blonde hair. She was so beautiful. We had everything planned you know? We were going to go on a honeymoon to Achenar, explore all the sights. We were going to settle at her place in Nortes.” He paused for a bit, trying to compose himself.
“Luke, you will see her again. We’ll make sure of that. Remember our plans?”
He stood up quickly, ignoring the pain in his leg, and slammed his fist on the table. Slaves around looked in our direction, but quickly went back to their business. A guard by the door took interest and started approaching us.
“It’s pointless! She’d never want me back, not if she knew about everything that went on in here! I’m a fucking monster Simon.”
The guard hit Luke on the shoulder with the back of his gun, knocking him over the table. The guard pinned him down.
“Sit the fuck down slave and shut up! Don’t make me use the loud end of this thing on you. Wouldn’t want to make your friend here have to clean up the mess.”
The guard released him and Luke sat back down, holding his head in his hands. The guard returned to his position by the door.
“Face it Simon. We’re not getting out. We’re better off dead anyway.”
I looked at Luke, weeping into his hands. I was getting nervous. I had never seen a man so broken in my life. I was unsure what to do.
“Bullshit, Luke. We are not rotting in here. Remember? We bust out, or we die trying.”
Luke raised his head and looked me in the eye, tears streaming down his face.
“No, Simon. I can’t do this any more.”
Luke stood up rapidly, and moved briskly toward the entrance of the mess hall. I followed him.
“Where are you going Luke?”
He kept moving forward, down the hallway and out into the recreation area. He didn’t say a word, but I kept following him.
---Main Factory---
Luke kept moving, not saying a word as he made his way to the main factory. I tried to figure out what he was doing, but he would not respond to me at all. We stopped at the main entrance. The large metal door was open wide, and slaves could be seen inside, working away, operating machinery and moving goods around while the guards observed, occasionally hitting a slave as they passed by. Luke stopped by the metal door and turned to me.
“I’ll never see her sweet smile again. I’ll never feel her touch, never laugh with her. I have almost forgotten what her voice sounds like.” His face turned to a smile. “But you are right. I’m not going to rot in here.”
I looked at Luke with a worried expression. “What do you mean?”
Luke approached me, put his hand on my shoulder then pulled out a small package full of the letters he had been writing.
“Simon. Take these. Bust out of here.”
“Well that was the plan was it not?”
“Take them to Emily, Simon. I have included contact details for a man named Mike. Hopefully it’s still valid. He was to be my best man.”
I took the letters, confused. “What are you talking about?”
Luke stood back and stopped under the doorway, looking back at me.
“Contact Mike. Take those letters to Emily. Tell Emily…” he paused and sighed. “Tell her I love her. Tell her that I am sorry.”
Luke then turned and ran as fast as his leg would let him. I stood back looking at the letters, powerless to stop Luke. A huge grinding sound could be heard inside and an alarm started sounding.
“Holy shit… Luke!”
I sprinted inside the factory, where a group of slaves and guards circled one of the large machines. I pushed my way through to the front of the crowd.
“Son of a bitch! Luke!”
It was a gruesome sight. Luke had thrown himself inside the machine, killing himself in the process. Blood covered the walls, ceiling and every visible part of the machine while Luke’s mangled arm was the only part of him that was visible, lying on the ground next to it covered in blood and torn pieces of fabric.
---Slave barracks - a day later---
I could not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, images of Luke’s death flashed before my eyes. I held the package of letters close to me. A tear rolled down my face. The first bit of emotion I felt in several months. I lost my friend, and for a moment, I had lost hope of ever getting out. I lay back for an hour, staring up at the bunk above me. I opened the package and pulled out the photo of Emily he had kept. I was suddenly overwhelmed with anger. I sat back up on my bunk.
Fuck this. I am getting out of here.