The sharp crack of the baton on stone sliced through the murmur of frightened breaths, demanding obedience. The captives rose unsteadily, their legs numb from sitting on the cold, hard ground for too long. The guard, unsatisfied by their sluggishness, whipped his baton against the floor again. Another CRACK. The prisoners jumped at the sound, fear adorning their faces as they scurried to the wall he was facing. Much like rats in a thunderstorm, the guard mused. One unlucky young boy stumbled over himself on his way to the wall. Tripping over his own legs he sunk into the stone floor. Eyes, welling with tears, he looked up to the guard to see him silencing him with a piercing glare. The boy trembled, body shaking as he leapt away from the menacing figure. The guard’s sneer deepened as the prisoners flinched, relishing in the power he held over them.
Hannah, one of the rats in question, was too occupied over where Ellie had gone. In the mad race to the wall, Hannah had noticed that Ellie had been separated from Atlas. Amongst the cluster of fervent hands and aching legs, Hannah spotted the familiar brown hair of Ellie bobbing in the sea of people. Panic surged in her chest as she caught sight of Ellie’s small figure lost in the sea of bodies. She had to reach her. She couldn’t let anything happen to the girl. Being pushed this way and that, Hannah reached out her hand, snatching onto Buddy and using him to guide them both together to the wall.
After the frenzied run, the prisoners lined up perfectly against the back wall, with Atlas being on the far left. Wedged between an elderly man with rotting teeth, and a woman with her back hunched. His eyes searched the line, anxiety clear in his gaze until he spotted Ellie with Hannah. He exhaled quietly, relief softening his tense features. He’d noticed the warmth Hannah held in her gaze for Ellie, he could trust that for now.
CRACK. The baton struck the ground once more, the sound making the prisoners jump. He chuckled darkly, amused at the way he could command them with a single gesture. Atlas clenched his fists, hating the man’s arrogance, the power he wielded over them all. He already had their attention; the baton was just a display of dominance.
The guard cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. “When I come up to you, state your name and age.” He began to walk along the line, starting with the old man next to Atlas, moving briskly from left to right.
The old man raised his chin defiantly, his eyes determined despite the slight trembles in his frail body. “Name’s none of your business, and my age is old enough to know a bully when I see one,” he spat, voice raspy but strong.
A hush fell over the line. Hannah’s breath caught in her throat, and Atlas’s eyes widened. Even Ellie looked up, her small hands clutching her bear tightly. The guard paused, his sneer turned into a grim line, breath faltering. Slowly, he turned to face the old man, his baton tapping rhythmically against his palm.
“What did you say?” The guard’s voice was a low growl, dripping with menace.
“I said,” the old man repeated, louder this time, “I don’t answer to scum like you.”
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The guard’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. In a flash, he swung the baton, striking the old man across the stomach. The crack of the impact echoed through the cell, followed by a choked gasp as the old man doubled over, falling to his knees.
Atlas’ vision blurred from rage. Red seeping into his vision he glared at the guard. Was this how simple it was to him? Just slap on a collar and they became less than human?
“Anyone else want to show some backbone?” the guard taunted, eyes flickering to Atlas before looking down at the old man with contempt. “Because I can break more than just your pride.” He struck the old man again, this time across the back. The old man crumpled further, a pained groan escaping his lips. The other prisoners jumped backwards against the wall as blood splattered around the man, droplets staining the stone floor like blood rain. He slowly crumpled to the ground, weightless.
The smell of iron and blood surged in the room, choking all its inhabitants with the dreary smell. It wasn’t an unknown smell, that of blood and death. All the captives had been around blood at some point, their own injuries were already present in the air. Yet death had a different feeling, one of curses and mould.
Hannah bit back a cry, her nails digging into her palms. Rage boiled inside her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Fear held her rooted to the spot. She looked at Atlas, who was pale, his jaw clenched tight. Ellie’s eyes were wide with horror, her small body trembling as she buried her face in her bear, trying to shut out the sight and sound of the violence.
Hannah screamed in her mind, begging Atlas to stay still. The guard had proven his violence and appeared willing to continue. Atlas being angry was not worth his life. She sent over a look of concern, mentally urging him to appear docile. He seemed to get the memo, making his face blank.
Atlas had only seen a dead body once, that of his father who had risked life and limb to keep them safe. A common story really, brother and sister had left to go steal some food and had returned to the beaten body of their father. A victim of bandits with nothing to steal. Atlas had gone ahead and seen the body before Ellie. Their things had all been taken, tell-tale sign of thieves, so he ran. Telling Ellie they were going to try another alley tonight. That they’d go back to him once they’d gotten enough food. When she started to ask why they hadn’t gone back after a week he’d told her their father gave them a mission. To find the best food and bring it back. They’d spent two months 3 weeks and one day like that. Searching, begging and stealing their way to survival. But the sight of his father’s sagging body had never left Atlas’ mind. Yet their father’s body hadn’t been quite so fresh. This was all so quick. The old man was protesting and struggling, a fire raged behind his eyes, and then he was just still.
The guard spat on the ground near the old man’s head, then straightened up, barking out to the guards standing outside the door, “Get this one to the grove” he commanded. Light briefly entered the dim cell once more as two guards with stockier builds wearing similar uniforms without the embellishments entered. Wooden masks carved with intricately horrific art adorned their faces. Most likely his subordinates, Hannah noted. The two masked men walked over to the old man and simply dragged him out through the door. A trail of blood seeped through the cracks of the stone; soft scraping noises echoed in the chamber before the man was out of sight. Taken by the guards. The grove would have to be something to look out for, Hannah considered. She did not want to meet the old man again there.
The guard shifted his weight, turning to continue down the line. “Name and age,” he barked at the next person, as if nothing had happened. The line remained silent, the only sound was the steady, heavy breathing of the guard and the whispered sobs of the next prisoner.