A whip cracked against my back, and I grimaced: my knuckles whitened as they wrapped around the handle of the pickaxe. Some of the goblins took sick pleasure in causing pain to us slaves, without the use of the runic chains that had been tied around our waists to activate if we stayed idle too long while we were supposed to be working. Sometimes, the goblins took it too far and killed a man, leaving the rest of those chained to drag the corpse around, or to meet the same fate, and for some reason, this specific goblin has taken a shine to me.

His left eye was missing, replaced by a long, pink scar, and his left arm was also gone. He gripped his

When the work was done, and if the others were still alive, the corpse would be removed from the chain gang and would be dragged away somewhere. Eventually, they would appear among the numbers of the Shambling, as Anders liked to call them. The three that were struck down on my first day here, were among their numbers within a week.

Quell your anger. Bide your time. The voice of the Ego spoke in my head. If you die, I die, and I do not wish to go back to the Black just yet.

Until when?

Until you’re strong enough to fight back. Do you not feel it? Our strength growing with every passing day?

All I feel is exhaustion and irritation.

The whip cracked again, and my back burned as it bit through the flesh. The goblin chuckled. Chuckled. I gripped the handle of my pickaxe and stopped swinging. Before half a second passed, the chain belt wrapped around my waist got as hot as molten metal. I hissed, and once more the whip cracked, and I fell to my knees.

“Get up! Get up!” Anders whispered as he shoveled the small bits of gravel I had managed to break off in the time I was getting whipped across the back.

I tried to push myself to my feet, but the whip cracked again, and I fell face-first. The burning around my waist got all the more intense. I hissed in pain, and the smell of my cooking flesh flooded my nostrils.

“Just swing your pick and hit some rocks.” Anders whispered again, “I need to find the place I escaped from.” He said. “Just another week. Put up with this for another week.”

The whip cracked against his back as well. Blood rolled down from the split cloth as the leather band ripped his flesh. He hissed and turned his blue gaze toward the goblin. It was difficult for the ex-Airman to contain the look of contempt in his gaze for the small creature. With another crack of the whip, Anders grabbed hold of my arm and dragged me to my feet.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Something buzzed overhead, and the goblin jerked its head behind it. Something black hovered in the gray-blue skies. I pushed myself up and gritted my teeth. I wanted nothing more than to drive the point of the pick into that damn goblin’s skull. Instead, I just heeded the advice of both the Ego and Anders and picked away at the wall.

There came a barking order from somewhere in the path behind me, and the one-armed goblin scampered away. This had been my life for the past two weeks. Every single night the drumming drew closer and closer. It wasn’t until a couple days ago that the buzzing in the air started as well, and it was constant. Was it another result of whatever it was that followed me back from Ever-After? I don’t know…

It was nearly sunset. Oranges and reds and yellows began to paint the sky in deep violets. It was our second day working in a row, and so in a little bit, I’d be able to cool off. Perhaps that was one of the reasons they allowed us to rest: so we would have something to look forward to, and wouldn’t lash out in any homicidal rages directed at the goblins, or perhaps whoever was behind it actually didn’t want us to die just yet. With that thought in mind, I looked at one of the Shamblers; swaying on the ledge right above the path. Perhaps that’s what lay in store for us after this work was done. Or perhaps we’ll end up as food for the goblins. I gripped the end of my pick. Regardless: even if we live long enough to see the completion of the tunnel, the same fate awaits us: death.

I wonder how many others had come to this conclusion: that with every inch — every foot they dug, they were digging closer and closer to their own demise. Would that thought stay in their hand? Would that thought drive them to rebellion? Or perhaps they’re fine with that, as long as they can live just one more day. I wasn’t. I wanted to kill them all, but I knew if I even started, that those with that far away, despondent look in their eyes, wouldn’t rise to the occasion. We outnumbered the goblins, 2 to 1, but with the lack of weapons and the lack of muscles from the scant food we were given: where the only protein really available was from the occasional mouse, or skittering lizard one might be lucky enough to catch.

Regardless, there was nothing I could do alone, so I continued to dig. My vision faltered and failed as the lack of sleep threatened to drag me down. Even the thought of stopping sent waves of searing pain up my spine.

Night came slowly, and the drums began once more. We climbed to those wooden ribs, step by step: cutting our bare feet on the sharp stones scattered across the path and scraping our toes against the hard-packed earth.

“So how did you escape last time?” I asked as I swayed on my feet.

“There’s an entrance to a cave system underneath one of the wooden rooms.” He said, “I don’t remember which one.”

I sighed.

“I’m going to kill that one armed piece of shit before we go.” I spat on the ground as we walked back.

“What? Do you want to have all of these, ‘goblins,’ as you called them, after us? How about we just slip out nice and quiet?”

“Then I’ll come back here and personally kill it.”

“Whatever you do once you’re out is up to you,” Anders said. “But I want to live.” Ander said, “I want to go back to America and see what’s come of her.”

“Nothing good,” I answered.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t believe it. You’re a negative person at heart, Lyle.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?”

“You’re guided by anger. Just in a brief time, I’ve noticed this pretty strongly. You almost fought a guy for walking in front of you, you curse under your breath whenever something goes wrong, and you punch the wall in whatever stall we’re staying in.”

“Well, how could I not be angry? Should I just roll over and be happy with being a slave?” I curled my fist and slammed it into the side of my thigh. “I’m not some fucking sheep who is content with eating gruel for the rest of the night, and what do you think is going to happen if we live long enough to see the tunnel connected.”

“Everyone here will be killed. You don’t think we all know that?”

“Then why are we just waiting around? To die?”

“Maybe everyone else is, but I’m looking for the way out.” Anders said, “After that, you said that there’s a merc outfit here?”

I nodded.

“Then I will go get them and bring them here.”

I laughed.

“Good luck. They probably won’t do a thing.” I spat on the ground.

“You’re a very, very bitter man.”

“Fuck you.”

Still, we walked together as we headed up to the caves. I rested, and ate the small amount of ground grain gruel, and drank some of the water from the trickling floes running underneath the wooden boards as I tried to fall asleep in the rotting hay. The marks on my back throbbed, as I gritted my teeth and listened to the approaching drums.