Elle and Bahrya bid their farewells to everyone, then left to go to their station. Bee gave everyone in the pack a tight hug and waved goodbye to Jamie before she ran to catch up to Rodent, who had taken off in the direction of their station after exchanging cheek kisses with Stri and giving Insie a pointed look, then leaving without a word. Insie knew that Bee and Elle would be alright, but he worried about Bahrya and Rodent every time they went to their stations. One look at Stri told him that he wasn’t the only one. Insie, Stri, and Jamie headed in the direction of the station the three of them were assigned to: Station 2, Block B.
“Have you ever heard of Nokotir?” Insie asked, looking directly at Jamie.
“Oh, yeah!” he answered, “that’s that mineral drug right? The one where the rocks are dunked in chemicals and then turned into candy? We had a big scandal with it back in my hometown…” he trailed off, his eyes fading as he began to understand. “Why are you asking me this?” Insie didn’t answer him as they reached their destination. The rock wall parted for them, revealing the blindingly bright blue cavern that awaited them. Insie turned around to face Jamie with an overwhelming feeling of urgency as if, unless he told Jamie this information fast enough, something terrible would happen.
“Listen to me closely, okay? You are a greenhorn for your first two weeks in The Coves. You are scrawny and no doubt weak from the way you were starved before you got here. You’ve only been here for two and a half days and you’re just now finding out about all of this and what you were brought here for. That all combines to prove that you physically can’t do the mining. The sumnuffs that supervise us don’t care about any of that. They get paid for every kilogram of rock that we mine, and they will whip you if you don’t deliver fast enough; I don’t mean they’re just going to smack or kick you, though they may do that too, but they each have a literal whip that they use on our backs when they want us to be faster or more efficient. If you don’t increase enough after they whip you, they will shock you.” Jamie looked absolutely terrified, almost as much as he did when Insie first met him.
“But,” he continued, “they judge your progress by the size of your pile at your feet. Stri and I will be standing on either side of you and giving you some of ours when they come around because we usually go well above their requirements. The most important thing here is that you never stop mining until they’ve collected your pile. If they catch you resting or coughing or just slowing down for even a second, they are going to whip you three times and then expect you to produce a bigger pile than the usual minimum and will punish you if you don’t. Come on, we have to find three spots and try and get started early to get you ahead.” Poor Jamie looked like he’d rather be hiding under Insie’s bed again and facing the dogs than trying to survive this. The three of them walked over to the far end of the wall and went to grab their pickaxes. Insie carried his and Jamie’s back to their spot, hoping to save all the energy the malnourished boy had for the next grueling 6 hours.
When they had gotten to their positions, Insie handed the greenhorn his tool; the poor kid could barely hold it level with his waist. He was clearly weak, and, from the apparent way he was holding it like a baseball bat, Jamie had absolutely no idea how to use a pickaxe. Insie tried to show him how he should wield and use it by demonstrating, but Jamie was so scrawny that the pickaxe went at a diagonal angle involuntarily and he almost dropped it twice. With his usual cleverness, Stri suggested that Insie begin mining and he would help Jamie with the pickaxe until the bell tolled. Insie observed as Stri positioned himself at Jamie’s back, showed him where the place his hands on the handle, and then helped him to raise the pickaxe straight up to his shoulder, and then propel it down into the rock, releasing a small chunk of rock from the wall that landed directly in front of Jamie’s feet. Satisfied with how Stri was instructing their new station-mate, Insie began mining his own section of the wall. He usually used his anger to help him be more productive in the mines, but all he could think about was the way the pickaxe dipped in Jamie’s hands when he had tried to wield it on his own, how his knees had trembled with the effort of supporting the extra weight that was admittedly not as heavy as some of the other pickaxes, the way the curve of the boy’s spine was clearly jabbing into Stri’s midsection when they brought the pickaxe back down because he had so little fat or muscle covering his bones that his vertebrae were like frail shanks compared to the small bumps in his back that they should be. Clunk. Insie looked down at the source of the loud noise that had disturbed his thoughts; he had knocked out a large chunk of rock, at least two kilograms’ worth. He made eye contact with Stri at the noise and looked down at the pile he had made for Jamie. He had at least four kilograms at his feet. When Insie met Stri’s eyes again, he found an exceedingly rare yet familiar flame within the normally kind and gentle spheres he had come to know. He saw his own rage reflected in Stri’s eyes and watched that rage flare up when Jamie tried to lift the pickaxe on his own, but only made his arms tremble with his effort, and to no avail. Watching the way the pickaxe shook and the trembling of the child next to him and knowing that this was their fate from now until the end of the foreseeable future, Insie raised the pickaxe above his head and struck the wall again.
Soon, the final bell tolled for all nunkers to be in their stations. By that tone they always were. Insie and Stri quickly combined their piles in front of Jamie’s feet. They had mined a good twelve kilograms in the time that they had been in the mine, and Jamie was able to swing the pickaxe the proper way now, just with extreme difficulty and extra time being required. He fell into a system, a method for which he could make sure Jamie’s pile would be full enough to keep him out of trouble when the sumnuffs came around, but still leave Insie’s pile tall enough so as not to arouse suspicion. Every third chunk of rock he mined went over to Jamie’s pile, as did every second chunk that Stri mined; the only reason they had different ratios was that Stri mined smaller amounts of rock at a time more frequently, and Insie produced larger amounts somewhat less frequently. Insie just kept feeding the flame of his rage through those hours with the things that kept sleep from him every night. He thought about how he had never heard Bee speak despite knowing that she could but just didn’t use her voice, though he is certain she once did. Clunk. He thought of how Elle had been there for almost as long as he had and had endured so much that she was initiated into his pack after only six weeks. Clunk. Clunk. He thought about how Rodent had cried the first time he had called her chipmunk and all of the reasons why the name brought her to tears. Clunk. He kept swinging and swinging at the wall, knowing that this one formation before him was the reason they were here. He knew that the wall was to blame. He let his anger guide his body to do the one thing it had been forced to do for the last five years until, in the final hour of mining, something caught his ear. It sounded like a soft plink sound, one that was definitely not supposed to be heard in that station. Looking to his left, Insie felt his anger subside and panic flare as he saw the state Jamie was in.
His whole body was trembling noticeably, his pickaxe was starting to dip again, he looked like he could barely stand, and he had been in such conditions for long enough that his pile was below the required amount for the amount of time that had passed despite Stri and Insie’s contributions. Worst of all, Insie saw a sumnuff approaching their end of the line looking for slackers or, in Jamie’s case, the physically unfit.
“Jagger,” he whispered, urgently trying to figure out a plan to hide the boy’s fatigue, “Jag, someone’s coming, you need to look busy.” This caught the attention of not only Jamie but Stri as well, both portraying alarm in their expressions. While Stri looked adequately panicked and was urging Jamie to hold on for just a while longer, Insie could tell that despite the undeniable fear in Jamie’s eyes, the only thing ruling his body at that moment was his exhaustion. He was panting and leaning his shaking frame against the wall like it was a lifeline, both hands holding the handle of the pickaxe with a substantial amount of effort and yet only barely keeping it above the ground.
“I can’t. I’m sorry but I can’t do it.” he panted. The sumnuff Insie had seen, a tall woman with flowing dark hair and sadistically shifting eyes was rapidly approaching the three panicked nunkers who had no plan to fix their predicament. Suddenly, Stri’s eyes lit up and he looked down at his pile, then at Jamie’s, then back at his again. He moved so rapidly that the approaching sumnuff didn’t even notice as he grabbed Jamie by the shoulders, thrust him into Stri’s former spot positioned exactly so that to the unobservant eye he was in mid-swing and proudly displaying his tall pile, and jumped into Jamie’s former spot, immediately going at the wall again to try and recover some of the momentum that had been lost. Insie also went back to swinging his pickaxe, aware of what would happen if he wasn’t mining when the woman looked at him and watched the sumnuff anxiously out of the corner of his eye. Stri’s quick-thinking had accomplished its purpose, as the woman didn’t notice Jamie’s exhaustion, but had a serious flaw: she noticed that Stri’s newly attained pile didn’t meet her expectations, and then stated it out loud, which, by the twisted rules of The Cove, gave her the only authorization needed for punishment. She reached for the whip just as Insie forced his eyes to look away. He just kept telling himself to focus on the wall, swing the pickaxe, and stay focused on the wall. He raised his pickaxe again over his head, then came the sound of the whip striking against Stri’s flesh and his immediate hiss of pain, then the whip again, then finally, “Crrrack!” came the sound of the wall’s damaged scream. Insie had swung the pickaxe with so much raw force that it had gotten stuck in the wall, cracking it in the shape of a spider web as if it were glass and making it impossible to retrieve with only his hands. The sumnuff jumped back 5 feet from behind him, clearly startled by his outburst, and went for her taser. Enraged, Insie gripped both hands on the pickaxe’s wooden handle, braced his left foot against the cave wall, and, using all of his furious strength, threw his entire body weight back from the wall, taking the pickaxe out of the wall and bringing at least eight kilograms of untreated Nokotir tumbling down to the ground. He spun around, pickaxe in hand, to face the sumnuff that had whipped Stri, but she was gone by the time he had turned around. Merely moments later a wave of sumnuffs came to check and document the amounts in every pile, then the release bell sounded and all but three nunkers went sprinting for the door.
All Insie could see was red, he could hear only the rushing of blood in his ears, and only feel the furious thundering of his heart from inside of his chest. He immediately looked to Stri, noticing the red seeping its way through his ripped white shirt as the wounded nunker leaned the sum of his body weight against the evil wall of misery that had caused his injuries. The gashes left by the whip were long and deep, and surely more painful than anything else. Insie felt his eye twitching at the sight of the blood making its way down Stri’s back. When he turned to face Jamie, the greenhorn jumped, almost as if expecting to be the human replica of what Insie had just done to the wall. This hadn’t been his fault and Insie knew that even in his rage; he knew that the greenhorn could never have been ready for this station so quickly after his arrival, and he knew that if he tried to ease the boy’s fear and reassure him that Insie didn’t blame him for this he would only end up lashing out at the already terrified nunker before him. Instead, he instructed Jamie through gritted teeth to go to the cafeteria, where the others would be waiting for them, and tell them what happened. After that, Insie told him to tell Elle that Insie was using the favor that she owed him in the form of Jamie, that she would know what that meant, and to do exactly as she said, to which the boy nodded with wide eyes. After Jamie had quickly scampered off to do as he was told, Insie turned yet again to Stri’s expression of excruciating pain. There is no way he’s walking like this, he thought. Therefore, Insie turned his back to his wounded friend and told him to get on. Stri, clearly willing to do anything but move his back at the moment, was happy to oblige after some maneuvering on Insie’s part to make it as painless as possible for him to get up. Once confident in Stri’s security on his back, Insie carefully and slowly walked back to his cell where he could tend to the gashes that were causing his friend so much pain.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Upon arriving, Insie retrieved his supplies, gently laid Stri face down on the cot, and set to work. Applying the disinfectant to the wounds had to be the most ethically questionable thing that Insie had ever done. The pain made Stri’s eyes overflow with tears, his teeth clamped down on the rag in his mouth, and his hand gripped Insie’s hard enough for his nails to nearly break the skin. Stitching the wounds closed with his final supply of sutures, Insie tried diligently to distract his friend from the pain, and would discuss anything and everything to do so. Stri seemed to have the same idea, as he took the rag out of his mouth and began talking about various subjects. They discussed everything from how they think Elle dyed her hair with the limited supplies they had to the questionable ingredients in the “food” they were forced to eat for survival’s sake to what their homes were like all to no avail, still desperate to find something that would distract Stri from his pain.
“So,” Stri tried once more, speaking with only a slight crack in his voice, “Jag wants to be one of us, yeah?” The topic caused Insie’s hands to hesitate in his surprise, though he quickly went back to work after coming back to himself.
Bingo, Insie thought. If the topic was enough to momentarily disrupt the rhythm of his suturing, then hopefully it would be enough to distract Stri from the pain.
“Apparently he does.”
“Do you think we should let ‘im?” Insie couldn’t help the slight wince that he made at the sound of Stri’s accent fluctuating in and out of its usual pleasant drawl from the extreme pain he was in and he was grateful that his friend couldn’t see it.
“Come on, Stri. You know that he would have to go through the trial before we could even consider it.”
“Yeah, I know that. It ain’t like I’m tryin’ to say he should be excused from it or anythin’, I just wanna know if you think we should let him in if he does complete it.” At this, Insie pondered for a moment. They had a certain criterion, a particular screening process, to determine which nunkers were even eligible for the trial, much less actually accepting them.
“What do you think?” Insie inquired.
“It don’t matter what I think, I’m asking you what you think.” Stri rebutted. Insie couldn’t repress the fond smile that began to spread across his face; for such a stoic individual, many people wouldn’t guess that Stri could be so sassy and sarcastic, but there were times that he had been known to act his age; even the hell of The Coves hadn’t been enough to break him entirely. Insie began to ponder what Stri may have been like before Cove life, before his initiation. He pictured a younger version of the boy in front of him, smiling constantly without a care in the world as he played with other kids. Insie knew that Stri had been in a big family before, recalling how he once told him about how his mother-or Momma, as he called her, apparently at her infinite insistence-was the mother of six girls and one boy, which happened to be Stri. He didn’t know anything more than that, as it was exceedingly rare for any nunker to even mention their family in general, let alone speak about them in detail, but he pictured a happy boy laughing with two little girls in a field of dandelions and lush greenery. Stri had always reminded him of dandelions, but Insie couldn’t be sure why. He was closer to Stri than most of the others in his pack-the only tie being with Rodent-which he attributed to the time they spent together in stations, but still Insie didn’t know much about Stri’s life before his initiation; it simply wasn’t something any of the nunkers liked to talk about, even Stri. Looking down at the boy before him and taking in his too-thin torso, twisted up and clearly tear-stained face, and the blood on Insie’s own hands from trying so desperately to stitch his friend up as quickly and efficiently as possible, Insie’s body let out an involuntary shudder as a cold chill ran all the way up his spine.
Distantly, a part of him realized that Stri had asked him a question and he hadn’t answered yet. Shaking his head to clear it of his thoughts, Insie tried to recall what exactly he had been asked.
“We all know that he doesn’t meet specific standards we have, but other than that I think he could be useful to us once he adjusts. The kid is definitely a stubborn little shit, that’s for sure. Chances are he is gonna be a fighter once he’s familiar with everythin’. The group doesn’t seem to have any qualms about him either, so he does have things in his favor at the moment,” he said.
After a long pause of Insie silently stitching Stri’s wounds, the injured boy spoke up in the most hushed tone Insie had ever heard him use.
“Hey, Insie?” The use of his full cove name made Insie’s attention perk up immediately. Stri never called him Insie, he called him Ince. It was just what he had done, even before he was part of their pack, so when Insie heard his cove name in all of its unabbreviated emphasis in such a timid tone, he knew whatever Stri had to say was serious.
“Yeah?”
“You picked his name, right? Jagger? He remind you of anybody?”
“Yeah,” Insie chuckled mirthlessly, “yeah, he does. I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed that. Don’t worry about me though, okay? Everything will be just fine. Once I get you all patched up, we can go right back to giving this place hell and we’ll set Striker on the loose.”
At the nickname, Stri let out the most genuine laugh Insie had heard from him in days. The sound filled his ears and echoed through his bones while pulling a very rare smile from him all at once.
“Ince if you keep callin’ me that then Jag’s gonna hear you and think that’s actually my name.”
“Hey, maybe it should be. You don’t have me fooled, I know you can kick the ass of almost any nunker you want down here. You might even be able to take me on a good day.”
“I can’t do any of that and you know it! You would crush me in your sleep with only one arm.”
“Hey, I said almost any nunker,” Insie replied with a confident wink, enjoying the sound of his friend’s laughter once again at the gesture. By now he had finished stitching a while ago and was content to just let his friend rest while the pain hopefully eased enough for them to attempt to make the trip back to Stri’s cell. The 3rd bell tone rang, signaling the closing of the dinner line and alerting all nunkers that soon the 10-minute bell would ring for them to return to their cells before the final tone. Insie and Stri exchanged a mirroring glance at one another, both knowing that this meant it was time for them to make their way back to Stri’s cell if they wanted to get there in time for Insie to be able to come back to his own, and, based on the familiar spark in his friend’s eyes, Insie knew exactly what argument he was about to have.
“You are not walking.”
“Ince-”
“You. Are. Not. Walking.”
“But-”
“Not. Walking.”
“Ince, just hear me out-”
“Stri, I swear I will drag you kicking and screaming back to your cell by your ankles if I have to but you are not walking there.”
“Insie-”
“That’s an order.” That was a dirty move and he knew it, but he was going to do everything physically possible to ensure that Stri didn’t get any worse, and if that meant pulling pack rank then he was going to do that. He was in charge in their pack and everyone knew that, but he didn’t really have any true authority over any of them, they just did as he said out of respect. There were certain things that each member of the pack was trusted with beyond doubt, and leading was Insie’s job in their pack. If he said that something was an order, that was the end of discussion. The sanctity of that ability was only kept in check by the fact that Insie almost never used that power, which only made it more tangible that he was employing that strength now. Stri maintained eye contact with him for around ten more seconds, then sighed and lowered his head in defeat. Stri had his own powers and abilities within their group, sure, but nothing that would help him in a situation like this. Insie decided to get his friend to his cell the same way he had gotten him here: by carrying him on his back. They talked about nothing in particular as they made the trek to Stri’s cell in 29C, Cell 32, which was only four halls closer than Jamie’s cell in 25C, but still close enough that Insie wasn’t worried as much about getting there and back in time. As Insie walked, he absently noticed something pulling at his hair, and realized that Stri had begun braiding it while he talked. If anyone outside of his pack had ever tried to touch him in any capacity, Insie would’ve torn them apart better than the dogs could ever dream of doing, but with the other people in his pack he barely even noticed it. As long as Stri undid it before he left and didn’t say anything about it to the other nunkers Insie couldn’t care less. They reached their destination just as Stri finished undoing the braids. Laying his friend down on the standard-issue cot as gently as possible, Insie surveyed the room before him with an icy glint in his eyes as he took in the state Stri lived in. His bucket was nearly empty, only just enough water to get him through tomorrow without risking dehydration, his lone toothbrush barely in one piece and his bed made neatly yet lacking any pillows or even a sufficient number of blankets. He had one thin blanket that he had apparently rolled into a bundle that seemed to function as a pillow and one measly, somewhat thicker yet still paper-thin, stained piece of cloth that hardly covered the boy’s body when he slept. Stri flushed at the chiding look Insie sent his way, apparently expecting such a reaction from the older boy.
“Stri, you know we can get you things down here. It doesn’t even take very much to talk some packs into snaggin’ a couple blankets or at least a decent toothbrush for you to use. Why didn’t you ask?” Insie elaborated, despite knowing the answer to his question before even asking it. Stri didn’t like asking for things, everyone in their pack was aware of that. He was an extremely giving person by nature, even with how little he had. He shared everything he had, even if it meant leaving nothing left for himself, and he would protest accepting things from anyone, even if he desperately needed whatever they tried to give him because it seemed to make him feel like he was depriving whoever gave it to him of something. Insie knew that this kind-hearted nature was something to be treasured and marveled at in The Coves, mostly because it was such a rarity, but he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to protect Stri from his own subconscious mind and force him to accept what Insie knew his pack would so quickly offer to him had they known about the conditions Stri remained in.
“I don’t need it. Everything I have now works just fine for me.” Insie knew that Stri was just trying to avoid discussing the difference in the effort he puts into his own wellbeing as opposed to the wellbeing of others, but he couldn’t help but feel his hand twitch at the boy’s statement because he knew Stri would be stubborn about it.
“If you saw Rodent or Bahrya livin’ like this you would insist that they have some of your things and you know it, and if the others knew about this you know exactly what they would do. Elle would smuggle an entire fortress down here and force it into your room without acceptin’ it back under any circumstances, Bee would start sneakin’ into your room before you go to bed at night and hiding small things in here until your cell was overflowing with blankets, Rodent would threaten to kick your ass until you took some of her stuff, even Bahrya would be all over you until you got some more things in here.”
“No, Ince don’t tell them, really I’m fine-”
“And you know that’s exactly what I would do,” Insie interrupted, “I’d tell them and back each of them up until you had more than half a blanket and a sad excuse for a toothbrush in here.” At this, Stri became silent and looked down at the floor with an expression very few people could dream of interpreting.
“I have things in here…” Stri replied quietly. Insie realized his mistake then, sighing and running a hand through his hair as he sat down next to Stri on the cot. He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and carefully constructed his response in a hushed tone.
“Yeah, I know.” he soothed, “Trust me, I know exactly how much you have down here Stri, but you need blankets and a pillow or at least a decent toothbrush so you can take care of yourself.” Insie could almost feel a part of his soul cracking when he noticed the tears that had gathered in Stri’s eyes; this kind of pain was different from the one that had made the boy cry earlier, and yet Insie knew that this pain would never leave despite how many scars it made. Carefully, he reached into the tiny hole within the mattress and pulled out the small box hidden within the gap and placed it in Stri’s hands. He didn’t have to open the box to know that all 8 amulets rested within it, each a different color and different kind of gem. He watched as Stri buried it in his arms and clung to it like his only remaining source of life, the tears still streaming down his face in a consistent flow. Stri lightly gripped his arm in thanks as they both knew that he couldn’t speak no matter how diligently he may have tried at that moment. Insie stayed there with him after the 10-minute bell had sounded, stayed after the crowds had all made their way back safely to their cells and Stri had let go of his arm and looked away, stayed after the people began running through the halls. Only when Stri asked him to go and the warning bell sounded did Insie reluctantly leave his cell and finally start the voyage back to his own cell.
Sprinting the whole way there once Stri’s cell was out of his line of view, Insie barely slid under his cell gate in time to get behind the bars before they slammed shut and the final tone sounded. He didn’t sleep that night, the image of a trembling child covered in his own blood and tears permanently burned into the back of his mind and scaring his slumber away once again.