The slick, sharpened bone rattled around the keyhole in the rust-covered iron padlock. AB Negative 2 jiggled the bone within the lock as sweat dripped from his forehead and into his eyes. The salt burned his eyes, but he ignored it. Time was too precious to worry about mere annoyances.
“Calm yourself, Negative 2. You will not succeed if you can’t control your nerves.” O Positive 125 gripped his arm to still his increasingly panicked and random jabs clanging inside the iron lock. 125 exchanged his grip from his arm to his shoulder and pointed behind them toward the resting places of the other children and teenagers.
Negative 2 ceased his feeble attempts to pick the iron padlock and caught 125’s eyes. The fourteen-year-old boy should have had dark brown skin and curly hair, but his hair had been sheared to the scalp and his skin was ashen from a life in darkness. He continued his gaze to just beyond 125 to examine the sleeping kids.
The giant room carved out of pure rock was lit only by the hand-sized glass globes, enchanted by the magic of the Fae. The kids’ bodies were impeccably clean, and they slumbered soundlessly with their faces hidden in the shadows where the fae balls couldn’t quite reach. They slept almost on top of one another, attempting to take whatever comfort they could at the touch of a fellow human.
The caverns might have been the safest place in the world for human children to live, but Negative 2 didn’t consider their existence living. AB Negative 3 drew his eyes against his will. With her blonde peach fuzz hair, the little girl tossed on her dark green sleeping pad that all the children were given to sleep on. On her slender neck, he noticed old scars and new scabs, prompting him to reach up and trace his own marks of slavery.
They were much more numerous than Negative Three’s. His fingers passed over the scars on the side of his neck toward his and felt the skin there. His fingertips traced the words and numbers that he knew had been branded into his skin. He had never actually seen the brand, but he knew what the raised scar tissue spelled out. Master Augustus 2320 AB Negative 2. His name, or at least what he had been labeled as at birth. Who owned him, the year he was born, his blood type, and finally, the number of that blood type born in that year. He shut his eyes tightly and closed his fist around the bone so hard that it threatened to snap within his fingers.
125 released his grip on his shoulder as he followed Negative 2’s gaze to the sleeping children. He let out a quiet sigh and shook his head. He leaned in close to Negative 2 and cupped his hands around his mouth, whispering directly into Negative 2’s ear, “You can’t save them, Negative 2. This life is all they know, and they would rather suffer the familiar than brave the unknown.”
125 uncupped his hands and returned his hand to Negative 2’s shoulder. He added force to his grip, sending a shock of pain through Negative 2. The burlap shirt, as rough as sandpaper, rubbed against his skin, taking the top layer with it.
He shook his head to focus his thoughts and returned to the iron padlock, which was the first step in their escape plan. And they would escape, or they would die trying. Both knew that this early autumn night might be their last alive, but they were determined by the all-encompassing allure of freedom. It whispered to them in their dreams, echoing throughout the silent caverns when no others could hear. The sultry voice of freedom whispered its seductions in their minds until it had driven them both to the point of madness.
Negative 2 renewed his desperate struggles to pick the lock with a bone fragment that they had stolen from the kitchens. They had planned this for years as they worked their way up in the kitchens from cleaning boys to finally butchers with access to animal bones. The vampires might not have a use for animal meat, but their precious human blood slaves needed to replenish their iron and other minerals if they were to keep feeding their masters.
They had shaved the bone down until it was perfectly smooth and rounded so that it wouldn’t pierce 125’s innards when he hid the illegal contraband inside himself. The human thralls, who had lost all free will when created by the vampires, searched their cell every single night from top to bottom. They searched the sleeping pads, holes in the cave walls, the floors, and everywhere else they could possibly imagine something that could be used as a weapon against them or their masters could be hidden. Even the children were patted down over their burlap shirts and pants for any once-living materials that could be used as a weapon against their owners. They didn’t think to check inside the children, though. Once they had extracted the sliver of bone, 125 had rubbed it against an edge on the cave wall to give it a sharp point that could be used to pick the iron padlock.
Negative 2’s shaved black hair provided no protection from the dripping sweat that ran freely down into his eyes. His sickly pale skin glinted in the dim glow of the fae globes. It almost appeared as if he had long since transformed into a specter, but did not have the awareness to realize his death. He jiggled the bone around the iron padlock until, finally, the rusted metal gave way with a loud snap. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and silently pulled the lock off of the iron-barred gate that kept them prisoner.
125 gave him a dazzling smile and mouthed, “Step one complete. Come Negative 2, our freedom awaits us.”
Negative 2 beamed back to him, ecstatic that he had pulled off the vital component in 125’s plan. 125 dragged open the iron gate, and they both went rigid at the sound of the squeaking metal hinges that connected to the iron bars. They paused, listening intently for any sign of discovery at their escape. A few moments passed, and 125’s shoulders relaxed. He glanced at Negative 2 with his dark brown eyes and gave him the thumbs-up sign. Negative 2 handed 125 the small shard of sharpened bone, and watched him put it in the hemline of his pants for safekeeping. They stalked outside of the cell and into the hallway as quietly as their human motor skills allowed.
He clung to 125’s burlap shirt and followed on his heels as best he could in the complete darkness of the caverns. Their human eyes couldn’t see anything in the blackness, but they had memorized this path repeatedly through the years. 125 ensured that they practiced at least once a month during the daytime so that they were prepared for any given night when the escape became imminent. They passed darkened lanterns bolted into the cave walls with inactive fae globes that would normally light the caverns during the day. The vampires needed no light and no humans should have been trying to move around the caverns after lockdown. The Thralls had their own personal lantern they could carry if something suspicious needed to be examined.
Negative 2 shuffled behind 125 as they took turn after turn in the complex cave system. Some caverns were natural while human slaves had carved others out over the centuries. The only sound, other than their muffled shuffling, was the steady drips of water onto the cavern floor. He jumped every time a drop thundered against the stone, breaking the silence of the cavern.
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As they shuffled along in the unending darkness in front of them, he heard soft snores coming from somewhere in the dark to his left. He paused his shuffling, and his fingers slightly tugged on 125’s burlap shirt. He felt 125 shift and then heard a whisper directly into his ear, tickling him into a shiver.
“We can’t save those kids either, Negative 2. They will live and die here, just as their parents and grandparents have done for generations. The vampires will keep them as cattle and feed upon them over and over again until their strength finally gives out. We can’t save them because they are already dead. Their hearts just haven’t stopped beating yet.” 125 shifted back around and resumed his careful prowling.
Negative 2 gave one last sorrowful look toward the cell hidden in blackness and hurried to keep up with 125. They made dozens of seemingly random turns with only 125’s right hand on the cavern wall to keep them oriented. They followed the cavern wall until, eventually, they reached a small notch in the wall. Over the years, 125 had chipped away at the stone with small pebbles until a small groove could be felt in the stone. 125’s head snapped up and Negative 2 raised his head as well.
He could see it. A small square of dark grey, not the all-oppressive blackness that was forced upon them so far in the caves. The vampires might not have needed oxygen, but their livestock did. Ventilation vents were dug to keep an acceptable level of oxygen so that their human meat wouldn’t spoil. This was the closest ventilation duct to Negative 2 and 125’s cell, and they had practiced this dozens of times over the past few years.
125 shook free of Negative 2’s grasp and began the perilous climb up to the ventilation duct. Natural groves in the rock allowed him to find purchase and slowly ascend ever closer to the shaft in the ceiling. He was weaker than 125, but he was also lighter. He quickly scampered up the limestone walls and trailed 125 as they finally got to where the wall met the ceiling. The wall curved into the ceiling, ensuring that they wouldn’t have to hang by only their hands during their climb to the shaft. This was the most dangerous part of their journey. Of the dozens of practice climbs during the day, they had been forced to climb down most times before they could reach the duct. They had to be perfect tonight, or it would mean their deaths. They would be hanging upside down forty feet above the rocky cavern floor that would provide no cushion for their fall. 125 shifted and Negative 2 could tell he had turned to look down at him.
“Freedom or death.” 125 smiled down at him and then began his upside-down climb on the cavern roof. 125’s hands found traction in the porous rock, holes just big enough for child-sized hands and feet to get a solid grip. He could see 125’s silhouette in the dark grey, as he watched him approach the ventilation shaft. 125’s legs suddenly swung free as the cavern ceiling crumpled around his foot and he was left dangling by his arms above the cavern floor. Negative 2 froze on the wall and held his breath. 125 swung lazily like a pendulum as he tried to gain the momentum to once again get his feet onto the cavern ceiling.
Negative 2 silently threw one fist up into the air as 125 finally found another ledge and pulled himself up a few feet into the shaft. As the black silhouette that was his feet disappeared upwards into the unknown, Negative 2 took deep breaths and prepared for his own death-defying climb. It was easier for him to pull himself up, and he put less strain on the limestone ledges with his small stature, but he could cover less distance with his short arms and find fewer potential handholds. He scampered across the ceiling of the cavern like an insect and finally reached the hardest part. He had to pull himself up into the shaft only using the strength of his arms.
He froze in suspended animation for a split second as he defied gravity and hung from the ceiling. He released one hand and now hung by only one arm as he tried to find purchase a few feet higher. Unable to find another handhold, he panicked as his hand slapped around the smooth rock. Finally, he discovered a sturdy ledge to grasp onto and switched his anchor arm. He found another handhold a little further up and slowly pulled himself up until he could find purchase for his feet once again. Once his feet held his weight, he shook his burning arms, opening and closing his aching fingers.
From somewhere up above, 125 whispered, “Did you make it?”
“I’m the best climber in all of the southern caverns. What do you think?”
125 snorted, and they began their upward climb toward the fresh air and freedom. Although it was only early autumn, the temperature in the cave system never deviated. The chilly air, combined with the moisture of their sweat, seeped their body heat from them at an alarming rate.
They had to stop frequently to rest their arms, but they made good time. The shaft was just narrow enough for them to push their back against the shaft wall, wedging them and giving them a chance to rest their arms. They had planned their escape to coincide with the rising sun. It needed to be late enough that the vampires couldn’t follow them, but early enough that they had a full twelve hours to break free of the territory before the following night.
The shaft resounded with grunts and groans, accompanied only by the tumbling of loose rocks that fell down onto the cavern floor. The ricocheting rocks sounded like the crack of a thrall’s whip on skin, and the boys would freeze their ascent, holding their breath. After waiting for a few moments, they would begin their climb once more.
The shaft became a lighter and lighter grey the further they climbed and their eyes strained, trying to capture any hit of light that found its way to them. They followed a gentle curve in the shaft and his head rammed right into 125’s foot, who had stopped his climb without warning.
“What are you doing? We don’t have time to stop. Climb. Climb,” gasped Negative Two as he rubbed the top of his head.
125 remained frozen in front of him and he started to panic as he shifted back and forth, trying to see past the other boy. And then, he saw what had stopped 125 in his tracks. His eyes widened, and he gasped as his eyes found thousands of glittering stars. The stars twinkled in their splendor in every corner of his eyesight. Tears formed in his eyes as he took in the majesty of the night sky for the first time in his life. It was true! The stories were true!
“Do you see them Negative 2? Do you see why we must risk death for the night sky?” 125’s voice was cracking with emotion and Negative two gazed upon his friend with profound respect. 125 was the one who had risked his life to eavesdrop on the Thralls and returned to Negative 2 with wondrous stories of another world. A better world. Negative 2’s mind had been cracking under the strain of his miserable existence, and he latched onto the fantastical stories of hope that 125 weaved.
He wiped the tears from his eyes that were blurring the wondrous sight of the stars. “I see it 125. You were right. All of your stories and promises were real, just like I hoped they’d be. Just like I needed them to be.”
He tapped 125 on the calve and whispered the mantra they had lived by for the past 3 years. “Freedom or death.”
“Freedom or death,” 125 answered the battle cry and began the brief climb to the surface. They finally came upon the lip of the shaft with enough visibility to take in their surroundings. He crested the final few feet of the shaft and pulled himself onto the grass that surrounded the deep black pit into hell.
He lay on the ground in the soft grasses of the forest, gasping deep breaths and shaking his arms to remove the stiffness and soreness. He slowly opened his eyes and beheld the thousands of twinkling lights that glowed defiantly in the unending blackness. Such tiny pinpricks of light promised so many possibilities in the vastness of space. They proved that there was much more to this nightmarish world than the hellish caverns below them.
They were beautiful, but he couldn’t give their beauty the appreciation they deserved as a giant pale-yellow ball stole his vision. The moon, in all of its glorious grandeur, hung so close in the sky that he wondered if it was possible to climb to it. It was full circle tonight and so big that he could see the craters pocking its surface. He bit his lip until he tasted blood. If an entire moon hung so close, untainted by the vampires, perhaps, they might find pockets of freedom even closer.