Destiny and Futility - Fiction by Esus

[Esus]

Chapter One
Again

Cam cowered once again in the dark shadow; eyes staring miserably at the bloodied grilled floor as his weakened hands hung almost limply over the back of his neck and head. He waited whimpering… waited for the next blow to come. Soon enough, it did. A loud swoosh rang through the air and then he heard a sickened crunch as the butt of the gun slammed into his back. He instantly flopped forwards onto the floor as the blood from the new wound trickled slowly onto the floor. Once again he heard the short sharp and hard laughter.

Cam slowly moved back onto his sore knees and again he felt the on-going pain that the metal grating caused to his skin. Again, Cam moved his hands to his back and silently soothed the new bloody gash; all he could utter were short and frightened whimpers. He slowly moved his hands automatically to his precious head, covered the dried blood in splatters of the wet. The slig behind him grunted and slammed the butt of his gun down onto the slaves back for a final time. Cam burst forwards, flailing onto the hard grate as his wound released another vein full of blood, dripping down his torso and through the grate onto the dusty piping. The slig uttered that distasteful laugh once more before spinning and heading off down to a corridor, legs angrily whirring as he did.

Cam began to silently cry, as he felt unable to move on the grate. He couldn’t think through the piercing pain of his back but somehow managed to edge his hands onto his wound, delicately testing it and feeling the sharp stings that ensued.

Only one hour later did Cam rise up to his knees, blind in the shadow cast at night by the out of service boiler and moving his hands slowly over the many ridges in the gate – feeling his dirtied and soaking blood and listening to it as it constantly dripped down onto the ancient boiler pipes. Tears continued to roll down his face as he made his way to his feet, and he slowly began to edge out of the confines of the shadow. As he entered the brightly lit boiler room he immediately caught sight of himself on the opposite and much more reflective working boiler and instantly took in a pained gasp. He was covered in thick maroon blood from head to toe, parts of it blackened by the disgusting and putrid dust of the grates. He was in awe mostly of his stature; his back was bent and crooked, his neck leant unnaturally forwards and his shoulders miserably slumped. As he painfully turned to see his back, he saw enormous bright bloody gashes, clearly visible in the rest of red.

Cam silently began to cry again, and slumped onto his knees, ignoring the sharp pains from the iron grating. From fifty metres away into the corridor, he heard the returning sounds of those dreaded mechanical legs.

[Oddish]

Sounds very groosum poor Cam, he suffers alot.

Good work.

[Esus]

Chapter Two
Chance

About one month later, Cam woke up and stared wretchedly at the harsh grey stone wall only centimeters from his face. He stood up and killed away the few strands of straw that had made his bed. They were useless. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a loud bell being rung rhythmically by one of the fansas. He could see that the rest of the small room were also getting up and slinking towards the hole in the wall.

Cam followed them and headed out of the hole directly into the outside; the sky was overcast with dark purple and grey clouds littering the sky, just looking for an excuse to release their load. Ahead of him, Cam could see the enormous stretch of fields that went on for about 2 miles in every direction, lading off into pointless dirty and muddy fields until the horizon. Cam slowly moved towards the nearby shed and remove a mack, which the slaves used to cut down the various plants. Cam barely noticed the other mudokons following the same procedure, he barely noticed anything anymore.

After removing his mack and heading straight into the depths of the field, Cam began to tirelessly hack at the tough greens. Each was about the size of a mudokon and nearly as thick, and millions of them surrounded him. He just hoped he had gone far enough into the field to avoid the sharp eyes of one of the guards. Fifteen minutes later, Cam had removed only one shoot; deciding that they obviously weren’t ripe enough here, he began the hour walk to the perimeter. Nobody ever went to the perimeter so one was always sure to find some soft and ripe vegetation, perfect for an easy days work

Once Cam got there, he avoiding the sentry towers and the towering razor fencing and began hacking; here it was much easier and he slew through about thirty in a mere fifteen minutes. It was then that he heard the large metal gate being driven sideways, leaving a terrible gash in the otherwise pristine fence. From the gate rolled in a terrible looking fensa truck, with which they normally transported good. From beneath the netting on the back Cam could see about fifty slumped mudokons all on top of one another, seeming asleep or knocked out.

As a slig ran forwards to keep in time with the truck, Cam instinctively feel backwards into the shadow, immediately fearing some unknown torture for mere delight. In the darkened soil he saw the other sligs rush forwards with the fensa truck as well, each easily keeping up with the slow tracks. Cam peered forwards once more and noticed that there were no sligs left. They had all deserted their positions to deal with the latest in-load of slaves, leaving the gate wide open.

Cam relaxed and began to harvest some more of the geat, savoring in the chance to do some unsupervised work. He just moved out into the open with an armful of crops when he heard the hard and dreaded word “Freeze!” Cam immediately dropped all he held and fell onto the floor, quivering.