The Fall of Man

Part III chapter 12

Chapter 12

Eve is bundled back into the semi-darkness, down a warren of yet more corridors and tunnels. The grey muck sloshes endlessly at their feet. A slight figure leads the way. His small round head bobs on a thin neck and sloping shoulders. The heavyset pack-leader brings up the rear. Every time her stride shortens or she stumbles on the uneven debris embedded in the slurried floor, she feels him jostling behind her, pressing and snapping at her heels.

The trickle of light illuminating their path waxes and wanes, and it is not long before Eve loses all sense of direction. Eventually she is brought to a halt. In front of them is a pitted steel door. In the flickering shadows, its surface is alive with rust and lichen. The smaller one drags a jangling fist of keys from his pocket and proceeds to sift through the bundle. He then unlocks the large padlock that hangs from a bolt midway up the door. The larger one leans casually on his metal cane and presses himself against Eve where she slumps against the wall, fighting for breath and conscious of his stale male aura looming over her.

“Hands off, Bry. You know the rules. Nothing for you till the boss has his say-so. Or you’re for it. Now stick her in the cage with gramps, butt.”

Inside, the cell is completely black. The air is still and ripe, sweet almost. When the heavy door swung open, a split-second glimpse of the cramped interior revealed a floor perhaps ten feet by eight, strewn with crumpled paper, broken polystyrene, and one other occupant – an elderly man with wildly thick, matted hair. Slumped against one corner of the furthest wall, and swaddled from head to toe in filthy rags, he appeared to be sleeping. As soon as the door clanks shut, darkness descends like a heavy curtain. Eve backs herself nervously up against the door, which reverberates with a diminishing tuning-fork hum while footfalls fade from the corridor outside. She feels her way with trembling hands around the perimeter of the space, until she stands across from the location in which the ragged figure lay. Her breath creeps slowly from constricted lungs, through her tightly pursed lips, but still the sound is painfully loud.

A few minutes pass and she hears nothing more than the intermittent rise and fall of the old man’s breathing. Slowly, she lowers herself towards the floor, her shoes rustling amongst the debris. Then she freezes mid-descent as footsteps ring out once more. Quickly, she scurries further from the doorway, gathering her coat about her. There is the click of a key being turned, then the rusted bolt grates in its housing and the heavy door swings inwards again, flooding the small room with light. As Eve squints blindly into the glare, two figures appear silhouetted in the doorway. With a start, she recognises the forlorn, hunched form in front as the spidery boy who followed her through the tunnels. He is limping and has one hand protectively cupped to his ribs. The second, larger figure is clad in green.

“There you go, Rat. Share a room with your sweetheart and the old fool. Don’t think you’ll be impressing her much with those chops though, eh?”

With that, the guard shoves the stumbling boy, arms flailing like windmills. He topples against the far wall of the room and is swallowed by shadows. The guard loiters at the illuminated doorway for a second, staring, seemingly waiting for something. Then with a clank the door slams shut and the cell is plunged back into darkness.