Read Online Fallen by James Somers - Free Book Online Page B

side.
    The giant set me down among a flock of more
mud people—all of them chained to great spiked balls of iron. One
of the iron balls threw a chain at me like an octopus’s tentacle,
clasping my ankle with a manacle that snapped shut with a sound
like a gunshot. The giant ordered me to work with a thunderous
roar. I found a dull pick-axe lying on the ground nearby.
    The crack of the giant’s whip across my
mud-covered flesh told me the tool was meant for my hands. I arched
my back in pain, crying out as blood poured from the wound. My
hands scrabbled across the dusty ground, retrieving the implement
before another blow could be thrown. I fell into pace with the
other hopeless mud people around me, hammering uselessly away at
huge chunks of rock. I could see no purpose in our drudgery except
to break our spirits.
    Above the courtyard, a huge gothic edifice
watched over us all like an owl peering hungrily through the night
at its prey. There was no sun, no moon—only the bleary gray of dusk
with no end in sight.
     
     
     
    The morning light roused us from our bunks
in the tenement. Dozens of boys clamored for their meager
belongings. Mr. Sinister was nowhere to be seen, but still the boys
moved with purpose, seeming to know the consequences for
misbehavior.
    Tom found me and showed me a place where
they kept a bucket of water to wash up in. A used rag, which may
have been white at one time but was now dingy brown, lay wet over
the lip of the bucket. I removed my shirt then soaked the rag with
water and rung it out several times.
    Using the rag, I washed my face, arms and
chest then rung out the rag and replaced it on the bucket for the
next boy. I didn’t care to think that I was probably the last in
line already.
     
     
     

The Lazy Lad
     
    By the time we found our way out onto the
streets again, early morning commuters were already bustling along
the endless river of human traffic. Mr. Sinister had suggested that
I go along with Tom and two other boys in order to learn their
trade and earn my keep. I took the man’s suggestion as the order it
was meant to be and kept pace with Tom and the other two boys: Bill
and Peter.
    Tom and the other boys meandered along
through the London streets, seeming to know their way expertly
while I tried to keep up, fearing I would surely get left behind if
I lost sight of them. But I noticed that Tom never let me wander
too far from them.
    Several times I noticed him pause among the
thronging passersby to be sure that I was still there. I got the
feeling that either he was genuinely concerned for my well-being,
or he knew the punishment he might receive for losing me. Either
way, I was grateful for his attentiveness.
    We made several stops that morning; not at
all the business I might have suspected Mr. Sinister and his boys
to be involved in. I had thought, possibly, that they were mere
pick-pockets largely due to the incident that had landed them and
me in prison. However, this appeared not to be the case at all.
    We entered a local pub bearing the moniker The Lazy Lad where Tom immediately sauntered up to the bar.
A rather large man wiped a puddle of beer from the dark mahogany
bar top. When he spotted Tom, his demeanor changed, going from
contentment to anger and then to fear in the blink of an eye. I
might have expected anger since boys our age had no business in a
pub. Already the place was half full of patrons starting their day
in a way that suggested they would end it in the same way, sitting
upon the same stools, walking the muddled line between
consciousness and unconsciousness.
    However, the unsaid exchange taking place
between Tom and the barkeep was truly perplexing. My new friend, if
indeed he could be called such, acted as though he owned the place.
The barkeep drew four drafts, one for each of us, and placed them
quickly upon the bar. Tom, Peter and Bill sidled up to their drinks
and began to imbibe. I left mine sitting, its foam cascading down
the side of the