"They should know I'm missing by now." Jameson held up the dimly lit lantern, illuminating the sludge covered stone walls of the sewers. It gave him the shudders. This place was too much like a catacomb. He half-expected skeletons or skulls imbedded in the dark brick walls. Catacombs were nasty places with vile criminals and rats. Oh how he hated rats.
There was a noise by his right foot, he jumped back into Samson.
"Just a rat," Samson muttered, obviously spooked. "It's just a rat. I've been here on my own and I am still alive. Right, Jameson?"
Jameson's teeth chattered as he swung the lantern again, catching sight of something black on the ceiling. "What is that?"
Samson shook his head, stuttering a little. "I-I don't know. I haven't seen it down here before. I've tried to keep a mental map of this place."
Jameson nodded, listening to the dripping of who knew what. He tried not to think of what he was wading almost knee-deep in, the smell was bad enough. But faced with a noose or the possibility that wading through sludge could lead to his safety... he'd take this chance.
More rats brushed up against Jameson's leg. He shuddered, leaning into Samson as they splashed around.
"Get that flame away from me." Samson yelled as Jameson steadied himself on the wall of the sewers. He cringed internally as his hand struck something soft and wet.
He ignored everything, bringing the lantern closer to their faces. "How much longer?"
Samson's eyes reflected the fire, looking almost like glass in the light. "How much longer until what?"
"We escape? That is the goal, isn't it?"
"We have escaped, we just need to escape more and keep escaping until we've escaped as far as humanly possible."
"Where do we go?"
"We could go to Polaria," Samson paused, turning into a branch of the sewer. "No—they'd find us out there. We don't look Polarian."
"You're fair enough, you could pass." Jameson held the lantern up higher, staring into the darkness, the muck churning with movement. "Damn rats, I hate those bastards."
Samson inhaled sharply. "But you couldn't and I don't speak the language anyways. I don't think it's wise to split up."
"They'll be looking for us together wherever we go and there's no way to hide. We've been branded. We can't settle anywhere, we have to keep moving. We'll have to steal."
The boy looked up to him, "steal? What for?"
Jameson shook his head, "do you like to eat? Do you want to get out of these clothes? Maybe sleep in a bed and have a hot meal for once? The world doesn't have pity on fools, Samson, and we are the biggest fools out there. We gotta steal to eat or we die."
"We could join a monastery? Explain our innocence?"
Jameson stopped him there, "innocence is completely subjective. We've been convicted and that's all they'll hear. People like us are less than human, yeah? We're like these rats. We're a plague and a disease. We belong in the shadows."
"Perhaps the riesun would offer us protection?" Samson looked behind them, only darkness peering back.
"You assume they still exist? You assume they aren't in hiding? Think about it, would you rather be burnt at the stake or hanged? One seems like a better death to me." Jameson stopped them as something caught his attention.
"We need to keep—"
"Wait, listen." Jameson lowered the lantern a little as the noises became sharper. There were footsteps in the sludge and he could hear men talking—their voices echoing off the walls. They were becoming louder, their footsteps becoming more like marches.
Samson's eyes widened. "They're here."
"Calm down, calm down." Jameson grabbed him by the shoulders, lantern dangerously close to him. "Can you lead us out of here?"
"I don't know!" The younger man was growing hysterical, his eyes beginning to water. "I don't want to die, Jameson! I don't want to die!"
Jameson shushed him, lowering his own voice. "We're going to play it safe, alright? We're going to extinguish the light and we're going to silently walk. Try to remember where how to get out of here, okay?"
Samson nodded quickly and Jameson lowered the lantern into the sludge at their feet, extinguishing the light. Everything became darkness. He clutched onto the metal handle, mind already racing on how to use it as a weapon. He wouldn't go back to prison—not when they were planning to have him hanged.
Samson grabbed him by the arm, dots of light flickering over Jameson's vision. He trudged forward, the younger man clinging onto his coat. He stumbled a little in the darkness, letting out a whine.
"Jameson—"
He cut him off with an elbow. "Quiet."
Samson whimpered, moving slowly through the sludge, the small noise of water rippling around them sounded like a gunshot in the dead silence. The boy was shaking from the fear and the cold, but they had come so far. They could make it. He released Jameson and stumbled off in from of him.
Jameson looked back, watching as a glow began to illuminate the walls of the sewers. He cursed, "where does it branch off? We need to get out of sight."
"I don't know..." Samson's breath hitched. "I don't know! I can't see anything."
Jameson looked back again, the light growing brighter and voices louder. He cursed again, grabbing Samson by the arm. "Let's go."
"What if we get lost?"
"We'll deal with problems as they come." He ran, the sludge stirring with every step. "We're going to split up, it makes us less of a target, alright?"
Samson's fingers tightened around his arm, "no, please! Don't leave me alone in the dark! Not here!"
Jameson shushed him, his hand against the sone wall to the side of him. Another look back and the first man appeared in his sight. The light grew brighter and Jameson ran faster.
"I don't want to die," Samson whispered.
The voices behind them stopped as Samson's words echoed louder than he expected. Jameson internally cursed as the light froze behind them.
"They're in there! Find them!"
Jameson lifted the lantern's metal base and tore Samson's hands away from his arm. "Run. Don't look back, run."
"But—"
"Run."
Samson did, wading through the sludge with a new fear—one that was less concerned about the rats. Jameson ran as fast as the depths would allow him.
Samson was ahead of him, his adrenaline driving him blindly forward. Jameson looked back, the guards slowly growing on them. The man in the front lifted the weapon from his shoulder, taking aim in the darkness.
"Get down!" Jameson yelled as the man fired.
"There!" another voice came over the ringing in his ears.
"Jameson!" Samson yelled for him, fear giving his voice a piercing wobble.
He ran faster, his hand against the wall falling through into emptiness. Another branch of the sewers.
He turned into the tunnel, running farther until the tunnel widened. He hid behind a small ledge, watching as the light paused in front of the tunnel's entrance before continuing.
They didn't see him?
He let out a long sigh of relief, chest heaving with breaths.
Was Samson alright? What would they do—kill them on sight or drag them back to be hanged?
He pressed his shoulder blades against the wall, mouth parted as he panted and gasped for air. He stopped, a scream burning through the stagnant air.
"No! No! Please don't do this! Please—God, no!"
Samson's voice.
No.
There was sobbing. "Please! I'm innocent! you have to believe me! Please!"
Then a single gunshot.
An echo of silence.
Jameson't head went numb. Samson was dead. Undoubtably dead. So he would die on sight without a moment to speak his peace.
The echo died down and another voice cut through the new silence. "Pick up the body, put it in the grave with the others."
Didn't even have the decency to call Samson "him". He was less than human, he was less than animal.
"Where is the other prisoner? Find him. No one escapes Greenwater!"
Jameson began running again. His feet tripped up and he fell headfirst into the water. He desperately reached up to the wall, first striking nothing before finding the stone wall. He stopped as he stood, hands groping blindly in the dark at the wall.
Yes.
He smiled for the first time.
Yes.
There was a cavity in the wall, just big enough for a man. Jameson took a breath, falling to his knees. The sludge came up to his neck here and he shut his eyes, tucking his knees up against his chest as he slipped into the cavity. He tilted his head back, only mouth and nose above the murky depths.
The sludge around him moved and rippled with movement and Jameson did the only thing he could think of—he prayed.
For his own safety.
For the souls of the dead.
For some hint of light of morning.
He prayed.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
