Flesh Worn Stone Read online

  His multiple cuts, on his head and on his abdomen, ached along with his nose, but the cool rain washing over the wounds seemed to help. He cleaned the stitches as well as he could, pressing the pus away and wincing as even the slightest touch made the red, swollen area scream in pain. As he wiped the area with his dampened jumpsuit, several of the stitches burst loose and a torrent of pus and blood shot out. Afterwards, though, there was less pressure and he felt better.

  “Try this,” Jackson said, seeming to appear from nowhere and handing Steven a handful of aloe vera plant cuts. “It’s really for burns, but there are healing properties in the salve as well.”

  “Thanks…” Steven said, taking the plant. “Where did you come from?”

  “Oh, I’ve been around, mostly sitting and talking to people.”

  “I haven’t seen you, and I was looking for you.”

  “It’s a large cavern, Steven. I’m sorry I haven’t been available. Was there something you needed help with?”

  “I…I’d enjoyed talking to you about this place, its history. I thought maybe we could talk about it some more.”

  “I’m sorry, Steven…” Jackson looked around nervously, skittish.

  “I guess people like to talk to you.”

  “Sometimes. Mostly people act like I’m some sort of priest simply because I’ve been here longer than any of them. I hear everyone’s fears and doubts.”

  “I’m sure that could be depressing,” Steven said, noting the man was not naked like everyone else and bathing. His robe, though, looked very clean, as if he hadn’t lived all his life in the Cave.

  “I feel it’s my duty. I’m not, apparently, fit to play in the Game, so I’ll do the best I can to help others who are destined for that glory.”

  “I wanted to ask you a few things, if you didn’t mind.”

  “Sure,” Steven said. “I’ll be happy to help where I can.”

  “I know you said you didn’t know exactly where we are, but I wondered if you knew about the area around the canyon and the Cave. Is it all rock and beach, or is there more to it?”

  “I don’t know,” he said simply, and Steven couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “I’ve never ventured beyond the Cave system or the Cage. I don’t know what’s out there. Many speculate we’re on an island somewhere, but we could just as easily be on a part of a coast that’s hard to access. There are rumors, of course.”

  “What sort of rumors?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. There are stories of wild men running in the jungles around the Canyon, waiting to kill anyone who manages to escape. Not that anyone has, in my lifetime. There are rumors that the guards manning those machine gun nests are actually aliens,” he pointed to the rim of the canyon, “and this is all some sort of super secret experiment where they observe human nature in advance of an invasion. There is every sort of rumor and conspiracy theory here that you can imagine.”

  “What do you think this place is?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Indulge me.”

  “I don’t,” Jackson told him. “I don’t think about anything but helping people, day to day.”

  Steven knew that was an outright lie. It was simply against human nature not to wonder about our existence. He couldn’t imagine a man living in the Cave all his life and never, not even once, wondering about where they were, or, more importantly, why they were here. He didn’t press the man on the matter, thought, and smiled. “I understand, Jackson.”

  * * *

  Amanda, like everyone else, had forgotten modesty and had taken off the stinking blue jumpsuit to dance naked in the rain. She felt alive among the people of the Cave, relishing the water as it rained down, and it felt even better to wash the grime from her body. She noticed several men staring at her and guessed that she was, unlike many of the women on the island, as yet unaffected by starvation and the ravages of life in the Cave. She knew that, for the time being, she was something to look at, but that didn’t matter in the long run. The men here wouldn’t make their move on her outside the Game, just as Block hadn’t. It just wasn’t their way.

  She washed as best she could in the downpour, ignoring the stings of the cold rain.

  “You’re beautiful,” Darius told her from behind her. “Probably the best looking woman in this whole miserable place.”

  Amanda spun around, her hair trailing wet behind her, and glared at him. “Get away from me.”

  “Amanda,” he said. “I know whatever happened to you in that van that night was bad.”

  “You should.”

  “It wasn’t me,” he told her. “It just wasn’t me. I know there isn’t any way I can prove that to you, and I know that you’ll never believe me. There is nothing I can do to change your mind. Nothing at all.”

  Amanda looked up into the big man’s eyes and, for just a moment, wanted to believe him. He was sincere and didn’t waver from her gaze. She knew, however, that he’d been there. There wasn’t any other explanation. She could trace the tracks of his scars in her dreams. She could still see Cassandra looking out at her in agony when he was on top of her. Shaking her head, she tried to twist the thoughts from her mind.

  “Fuck you,” she said. “I know it was you. There’s nothing you can say that will ever erase that. There’s no lie you can tell that will wipe the slate clean. You act like you care, but you don’t really care about anything. I know what you are…you’re dead inside, dead to anything but your ego and your pride.”

  He nodded, seeming to agree. “I have to try. It’s what makes us human.”

  There was still no anger on his face, nothing but dismay at not having been believed, and once again Amanda doubted herself, doubted Cassandra. If she was wrong, she was no better than those who said all blacks looked alike. But she couldn’t be wrong…could she?

  The rain party went on until the rain stopped, which to Amanda seemed like hours. She imitated what she saw the other women doing, washing their clothes on the rocks, scrubbing on flat parts. Dirt and grime came out in brownish fluid, but she was sure she’d never get them completely clean.

  There was nothing about this place that would ever be clean. No amount of rain could wash away all the blood.

  * * *

  “Where in the hell did you get all that?” Darius demanded.

  John was sitting on a tattered sleeping bag inside the enclosure Steven had constructed of cardboard and garbage bags. The walls did nothing to keep the sounds of the Cave out, but they at least didn’t have to look at the hundreds of other residents. The sounds of the community, laughter and tears, happiness and arguing, still filtered through the barrier. Next to John was a small dented green Coleman ice chest with the lid missing. Inside were fruits and vegetables, all in various states of rot, as well as the remains of a couple of T-bone steaks.

  “I bought it,” John said simply, looking back and forth from his haul to Darius, a bit of fear on his face as if he thought the big man was going to take it.

  “You bought it with your wooden chits?” Darius said angrily. “Like the ones you gave Block?”

  John looked suddenly afraid. “Hey, I was only…”

  “You’re hedging,” Darius said. “I know what you’re doing, and, quite frankly, I don’t give a shit. I guess if I was in your situation, I might do the same thing. I’m just a little disappointed I’m only worth a tenth of what Block is.” He wasn’t being serious. He thought the wooden chits were silly, and didn’t actually believe that John was worth that much. Even if he was there would need to be an extraordinary turn of events for anyone to actually claim their prize. The whole thing was just another tool to use, another shovel added to the digging of the man’s grave.

  “He’s a four-timer and that much closer to leaving this place. He’s also in a position of power that, while I think you might attain one day, you’re not in now. Block simply has more leeway on what could happen to me right now than you do.”

  “What happened to us working together
and running this place?” Darius asked, amused by the flimflam.

  “I think we’ll get there,” John said seriously. “But like you said, I need to hedge my bets.”

  He reached into the container, pulled out a half-eaten apple, and smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’re taking one for the team. What did this cost you? Ten, twenty grand?”

  John’s emotionless brick wall cracked for a moment, but Darius didn’t really care. He chomped on the apple in silence, listening to the sounds of the Cave

  Chapter Seven

  Days passed without a Game, and the small group settled into something of a routine. Rebecca and Mia, first thing in the morning, would take plastic water bottles and fill them up at trickling stream that ran down the stalagmite. Darius and John would wake up, and, after arguing with Amanda about their situation for awhile, wander off in search of food. Amanda disappeared early every day, after the morning argument and accusations about Darius, and every evening she returned with, at the very least, some amount of information that they didn’t have before. Sometimes she’d return with a moldy hunk of break, and once even brought Mia the remains of a chocolate bar, which the little girl shared with the group, after picking off the dirt and grime.

  As the days drifted on, the meager meals in the evening became even more meager. There was more and more water and less anything of substance. After the second night, Block once more asked for donations to the pot, and, once again, the Cave came through. But even then, it wasn’t much. Two days later, it was only broth, and then just water. Steven didn’t eat from it until he was sure there wasn’t any people flesh in it. Unfortunately, he could, with every passing hour, feel himself becoming weaker. He wasn’t going to be able to fight in another Game at this rate, not that he had any confidence that he’d be able to win without some sort of divine intervention. But he’d face that hurdle when it came up, he decided, and there simply wasn’t any point to worrying about what could happen now.

  Steven spent the days exploring and gathering more material, when he could, for their shelter. Their first few puny walls had expanded, becoming taller, and taking up a bit more space. Now they had the basis of a floor, mostly of cardboard and scrap wood, but it was enough that Rebecca made them clean their feet before they came in. The Cave was much more massive than he’d first guessed, with multiple passages leading off in all directions, some leading up to the balconies, as the Cavers called them. The few flat places looked out high above the Cave, on nearly the same level as the ship, and were home to multiple Game winners. One set of tunnels, leading down and below the main cavern, interested him the most. He thought maybe one of them might lead to a way out, but one of special interest to him ended at dark, salty seawater and, though he was tempted to find out where it led, he didn’t want to dive down and see how far it went. It didn’t help to try and bathe in the water, either, as it left a slimy residue that wouldn’t wipe away when he got out. There were, however, thousands upon thousands of mushrooms, and, for a bit, his diet improved.

  He spent many of his days looking for the elusive Jackson, who never seemed to be where he was looking in the Cave. When he’d asked someone about the man, they’d say they hadn’t seen him since the last Game, or that they heard he was somewhere else. The Cave was huge and there were hundreds of people inhabiting it, but he wondered how hard it could be to find one gray-haired old man wearing a bright purple and usually clean robe. Steven was sure that Jackson was the key to getting out of the Cave, whether he knew it or not. The man had forgotten more about the place than Steven would ever know, and hopefully, if he could ask enough questions, he’d shake some little piece of information loose that could help his struggle to escape.

  But the man was simply nowhere to be found. He was a ghost among a ghost people, hiding in shadows.

  His abdominal wound began to improve, and the infection, which never had spread from the area, began to heal and the scabs finally fell off the numbers on his arm. They were a rich black in a blocky style, deep and textured. He knew, though, that in another ten or twenty years they’d looks just like the wrinkled and shriveled numbers on the older people he’d seen.

  Life in the Cave, though not normal for the newcomers, was normal for everyone else. Steven was constantly amazed at just how life went on. There were births and deaths, funerals and weddings. Children celebrated birthdays, of sorts, when their parents managed to track the passing of the days by scratches on the walls, or sticks collected, one for each day. He didn’t have any idea how much time had passed since his sons had been murdered, but it seemed like an eternity. He was beginning to feel as if he’d been in the Cave all his life.

  He couldn’t begin to imagine how those, like Jackson, who had actually been in the Cave all their life, felt.

  Wandering, he stumbled on the two men he’d first heard debating the merits of John’s IOUs in the form of the wooden chits. They sat behind a display stand made from wooden plank stretched between two rocks. On it, they displayed several pieces of rotted fruit, a couple hunks of spoiled meat, a stack of empty plastic garbage bin liners, and the real prize…a steak knife. They two men looked up at him and Ernie, the one who’d originally taken wooden chits from John for food, smiled.

  “Good morning,” he said with a smile. “Can I interest you in something to eat?”

  This was odd to Steven. Every night he and the rest of their group lined up in the communal food line, bowls in hand, waiting for the meal to start. You couldn’t have two bowls and if someone was not able to actually stand in line with their bowl, they didn’t eat. Steven had taken the people soup when it had been available, still made from the remains of the four dead people from the last game, and dug out the scraps of meat, giving them to John and Darius, who ate human with a passion. He hadn’t seen his wife or Mia eating the meat, but he hadn’t seen them giving it away either. He didn’t know about Amanda, who never ate with them but never seemed hungry. But there was never a charge for the soup, of any sort, and one never had to perform any tricks or special services for Block’s men to get it. It was the one thing he’d grown to respect about the big Samoan man. If there was food available, everyone was getting it. He and his men did eat better, of course, but so did he, now that he had a mark. He got more than someone without simply because of his rank.

  Two men with a vegetable stand in the Cave was odd, to say the least. “And what would I have to give you for something to eat?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  “Well, if you have a ‘JIOU,’ that would be best,” he said, holding up one of the wooden chits. “But we’ll trade for something else of value as well.”

  Steven was hungry, yes, but he’d fallen into the routine with the rest of their group of eating once a day, at the evening meal. Even if he was inclined to buying a piece of the rotting fruit, he didn’t have anything to trade. The only actual possession he had was his blue jump suit, now grimy and just as torn as everyone else’s. He couldn’t imagine what people were trading with these two men.

  “No, but thanks. What are people trading?”

  “Well, like I said, we prefer the chits,” he said, again holding up one of John’s makers. “They are actually something of value, but people trade all sorts of stuff. Clothing, bags, other food. I had someone come in yesterday and traded seashells. Now, I normally wouldn’t give two shits about seashells, but he had them arranged on a piece of yarn as a necklace. I said what the hell, and traded him an apple, and it wasn’t twenty minutes later that someone else came in and traded three quarters of a roasted chicken for it. I guess they just wanted something of beauty here.”

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Steven said. He could imagine the though process of the person who bought it. He could see himself doing the same for Rebecca, just to break up the gray monotony of the Cave. He could imagine her smiling again.

  “It’s something different, anyway,” Ernie told him as his partner, Max, counted chits. “Hey, you live with John, right? You guys showed up together?”
>
  Showed up was an interesting way to term their violent kidnapping. “Yes.”

  “Then maybe you have some sort of access that we don’t. We could make it worth your time and effort, once we’re all out of the Cave, if you could hook us up with him directly.”

  “Why don’t you approach him yourself?” Steven replied. “He seems to be giving those things out fairly freely.”

  “We did, actually. We wanted to go into business together, and offered him a hell of a deal, but he seemed kind of hesitant.”

  “I don’t know why, that’s his background. His family is all businessmen, pretty successful ones at that, as far as I know.”

  “If he isn’t lying,” Max said, expressing his doubts to his partner, “and all this isn’t for shit.”

  “Who cares if it is, Max?” Ernie asked. “At least we’re doing something different. At least we’re eating better because of all this.”

  “There is that.”