His strength is prodigious. I watch his ropey muscles slide under his green skin as he pulls and maneuvers some of the biggest rocks in the pile, but no matter how many he displaces, no light seeps through.
Despite Slag’s pantomimed orders, I do rise from my spot. After walking to the cave-in, I press my ear to the rock, hoping to hear muffled shouts as the guards or perhaps our fellow slaves work to dig us out. Nothing.
Slag shakes his head, making his meaning all the more clear when he adds a sad face to the message. He’s been with these people far longer than me; he knows what they’re made of. He absolutely knows no one is coming to help us.
I have to give him credit, though. He lets me listen for ridiculously long minutes until I come to my own conclusion.
“Okay, Slag. We’re on our own, huh?”
He nods. After two days together, I still have no idea whether he understands all of what I say, but I know he comprehends my resignation.
He approaches me and bends for me to climb on his back. I guess we’re going to crawl into our den and wait to die.
He swerves into our little room for a moment, but that’s only to grab his pickaxe and secure his flute to his loincloth. He puts me down and urges me to drink. In spite of the lingering nausea, I’m able to drink my fill. Slag does the same, then hoists me onto his back once more. Carrying his axe, he forges down the corridor toward the blackness.
The illumination from the dim emergency lights follows us for a surprisingly long way, but eventually we are alone in the dark. Sightless.
Slag slows, testing every step with his rag-covered feet before he takes a full step. I’m scared and fatigued to the bone, but the adrenaline must have chased away my muzzy thinking, because I’m thinking clearly enough to catalog every possible way we could die.
The little rat-like animals I heard as I worked today could swarm and devour us. There could be a huge monster farther back in the recesses of the mine. Hell, I’m on another planet where psychopathic snakes walk upright; monsters aren’t farfetched. My protector could make one misstep and hurtle us into a huge crevasse, or maybe we just walk until we get to the end of the line and die of starvation.
For maybe the first time since I met him, I think of Slag as a person—not an enemy or possible rapist, not even my silent protector. I think of the fact that somewhere in that quiet male is a sentient being who not only must be feeling some of the same terror as me, but who also carries responsibility for my safety as an added burden.
I snuggle closer grabbing my elbows where they hang across his chest, dip my lips to his ear, and talk.
“You’re a good male, Slag. I think you can understand some of what I say. I hope you can. I’d be reduced to a sad puddle screaming in the dark if you weren’t here with me. I know you haven’t had the best life, but you have me now. I’m your friend.”
He reaches up with a huge hand and pets my forearm—just once. His calloused palm skims across my skin soft as a whisper. He had to have understood me, at least a little.
We walk for hours. I don’t know how long, it’s impossible to tell. We’ve had to traverse several rockfalls, but there was always a way over and we kept walking. Well, Slag kept walking. I just hung on.
I began humming. It’s something my mom taught me to do when I got scared in the middle of the night. When Slag started humming along, it gave me permission to sing.
I went through the whole rotation of every camping song I ever learned starting with “Row Your Boat Ashore,” and ending with “Baby Bumblebee.” As soon as I hit the end of my repertoire, I started over. Once I caught my companion’s deep rumble as he vocalized with me in his wordless manner. As soon as I commented on it, though, he stopped singing even though I praised him.
He’s stumbled several times now. I’m certain he must have walked all night. Finally, I manhandle my way off his back, pulling my arms from his grip.
“You need rest, my friend.”
I can’t see him at all, but sense his resistance, so I grab his hand and pull him with me as I lie down. I don’t have to argue too strongly, he’s got to be dead on his feet. He sits with his back to the wall and pulls me across his lap, then he tucks my head against his chest and rests his chin on top. As soon as he wraps his arms securely around me, we both fall asleep.
~.~
When I wake, I know instinctively that Slag is already awake. As soon as he feels me stir, he gets to his feet, pulls me onto his back, and works his way farther into the mine.
We’re not actually going to find a way out of here. I think we both know that by now.
I don’t know how it took me so long to realize it, but since green speckles glow and we haven’t seen any glowing since the cave-in, we’re out of the irradiated zone. Maybe that’s why my thoughts are a bit sharper and I’m less fatigued, and I’m starving.
Slag just keeps up his pace as he carefully puts each foot down, making certain we don’t tumble into any crevasses.
“Slag!” I say excitedly as I practically pound on his bald head. “Look!”
I see light. He does, too, because he’s moving faster now. Once you’ve been in the dark
