Check back every week for a new instalment of the online exclusive by Richard Cozicar The Ice Racer Thoughts of escape are momentarily forgotten as we stand by the iron rail transfixed by the sight of the large bowl carved out below us. The layers of lava rock have been removed exposing deeper rings of bedrock. Machinery and men below claw at and scrap away the ground in search of oil deposits.
Large dinosaur looking metal structures lift and lower, their large steel wheels rotating in a macabre symphony, scraping, straining steel grinding and squealing adding to the rhythm of the eerie scene. Small human figures move among the machinery, their voices rising up with the cacophony of earth drilling equipment. Mixed with the sounds of man and machine come the strong stench of exposed oil deposits and damp rotting earth. The noxious fumes of the nearby molten lava mix with the sweltering heat and volcanic ash in an assault our noses. If there actually was a hell waiting in the after life like the one the elders back at the Capital spoke of, I am positive that it would resemble the Adams Mountain oil mine. The thick choking atmosphere breaks through my trance. Out of the corner of my eye I glance Annaliese trying to use her robe to stop the intrusion of fowl air from overtaking her. Without thinking I peel my visor off my head and against her protesting brush back her hood and pull my visor over her head then adjust the air scrubber. Annaliese stops protesting and looking into her face I notice the pupils of her eyes growing larger as her face looses colour. At first I am not sure what is happening to her but then she raises a finger and motions behind me. Rotating my head I see two guards walking in our direction from the cliff building. “How good are you with that gun?” I whisper. She shrugs and gives me a weak smile. “When I give you a signal raise the gun and shoot.” I instruct her as I spin on my heels and start walking to meet the two. I use my body to shield Annaliese’s actions from the sight of the approaching guards. I raise my hand in greeting and when I have moved several yards away I holler for Annaliese to fire as I drop to the ground. Bullets sing overhead. The two men from the cliff-building take a second to realize what is happening. One twists as a bullet bites into his shoulder, the other dives off to the side dropping his rifle in the process. The diving man comes to rest against the metal railing protecting the cliff. I bring my gun up in front of me and I pull the trigger. My aim is not true but with the two of us firing the guards are trapped and unprepared. A banging on the locked door to our side joins the myriad of sounds. Risking a quick glance I can see the door shaking in time to the pounding, the bound guard I had left jammed against the bottom of the door preventing the door from opening. “We have to move.” I yell back at Annaliese then jump up from the ground and push ahead, the rifle held in front of me covering the stunned guards. Without looking back to see if Annaliese is with me I cover the distance to the cliff building with a few quick long strides. The guard Annaliese shot is lying on the ground clutching his side, his buddy remains pinned against the rail with nowhere to go. Closing in I kick the fallen gun aside and stand covering the two guards. Annaliese arrives by my side. “Grab their rifles.” I ask her while motioning the two fallen men to stand then I point back toward the building. “Move.” I bark at them. I dare not risk another look back at the door to the mine but the hair on my neck bristles as I half prepare myself for shouts from that direction and a shot in the back. With added urgency I shove one of the guards to speed things up. Following close behind the men enter the building. Stopping by the door I close it and lock it before I look around. We find ourselves standing in a single room building with a spacious interior, the walls are built out of rock and reinforced with steel, a window is set in the wall facing back toward the entrance of the mine. A table with several chairs is set off to the side, some counters run around the exterior walls and at the cliff side of the building are two steel doors overlapped at the middle. On a console to the right of the doors levers and buttons protrude dotting the surface. Pushing the guards toward the chairs I shoot a confused look at Annaliese. “Is there no way down into the mine from here.” I ask her. She nods toward the overlapping doors. “There is an elevator behind the doors that lowers on pulleys.” She tells me. What the hell is an elevator I want to ask her but decide against it, I have enough on my mind at the moment. She whirls on one of the guards. “Show me how to use it.” The guards remain still. I raise my rifle and shove it into the chest of the wounded man. “Now.” I threaten. “Or we will figure it out over your dead bodies.” Nervously the guard walks past Annaliese and describes the buttons functions to her. When she figures she can operate the elevator she nods and gestures for the guard to join his partner. “Do you think you can work that?” I get the same shrug she gave me when I asked her about the rifle. “Sit down.” I tell the guards and follow them over to the chairs. The wounded guard seats himself first, the other moves slower. I stare the man in the eye running my mind over ways to subdue these men. The wounded guard moans, his attention is occupied by the bleeding and pain caused by his wound. The second guard looks nervously between his wounded partner and me and then back to his partner. As he glances away from me I swiftly swing my arm that holds the butt of the rifle driving it into the side of his face. The guard crumbles onto the chairs and I quickly do the same to his partner. I grab a chair from the table and jam it under the door lever then take a quick glance back to the entrance door. I can see the door slowly starting to open. “We’ve got to go.” I rush to the overlapping doors waiting for Annaliese to show me this elevator. I watch as she presses buttons. A whirring sound can be heard behind the doors and then they slide apart revealing a small metal room. “Move to the back.” Annaliese tells me then hits another button and rushes in to join me. I stand with my back tight against the wall; Annaliese stops in front of me. The doors slide closed and we wait. The metal room shakes and with slight hesitation I can feel the room lowering. Slow at first and then it gains speed. Not really fast but quick enough or at least I hope it’s quick enough before more of the Prophets men storm the door of the cliff building.
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Check back every week for a new instalment of the online exclusive by Richard Cozicar The Ice Racer “Follow my lead.” Marcus whispers to us as he takes a quick step behind Annaliese and myself.
He calls back to the guards. “Over here.” He waves, purposly calling attention to us. “I found these two sneaking around this alley.” He shoves us from behind moving us forward to meet the military guards. The guards watch warily as we approach. Their raised guns slowly lower. My heart beats rapidly at the thought of being returned to the cage. Annaliese’s gaze swivells between Marcus, the guards and me as step by step we close the gap. “Stop.” Marcus instructs us as we come almost face to face with the two guards. Stepping around from behind us, Marcus stops to the side of the men drawing their attention. I had no idea what he has planned but seeing the opportunity I rush the guard on the right, my one hand clasping the other man’s gun hand, my shoulder ramming into the guy’s chest knocking him back into the wall of the building. We struggle. The guy is strong but I can feel my adrenaline spike from fear and the thought of recapture. Raising my right hand I drive a fist into the man’s gut knocking the wind out of him. He doubles over into my raising knee. A sickening crunch follows as the guard’s hand releases the gun and he topples to the street. Swiftly retrieving the gun I whirl around in time to see the butt of Marcus’s rifle connect with the other guards face. The two of us stand staring down at the fallen men. Marcus relieves the other guard of his weapon and passes it along with his own to Annaliese. “Help me peel their uniforms off.” He said to me in between gasps of air as he bends over to pull the robe off the guard he clubbed. With the military robes removed the two of us drag the guards back into the shadow of the building they emerged from. Marcus rumages under his robe and produces a knife. Slashing and cutting at my discarded brown robe he cut strips and passes them to me. “Tie their hands and feet and gag them.” He rapidly calls out as he continues cutting strips from the cloth. Our work is hastened from the fear of being discovered by other guards patrolling the streets. With the stolen guns in hand and donning the military robes as disguises we leave the area at a brisk walk, sticking to the deeper shadows of the buildings, Marcus walking a few steps in front of us to scout for any other unwanted company. “A few more blocks.” Marcus states as he points ahead of us; his breathe is still laboured from the brush with the Prophets men and the tension we are all feeling. We move as quickly as we dare while maintaining all the caution we can afford. At an intersection in the road, he raises his hand signalling us to stop. Annaliese and I wait and watch while Marcus peers around the corner, what he is watching we have no idea but he remains silent and unmoving. Something around the corner is obviously troubling him. After several minutes he returns to us, his face a readable map of what lies in the path of our escape. Marcus shakes his head and in a hushed voice almost imperceptible to my ears he relays what he saw. “The door to the oil mines lies just ahead.” He starts, “The problem is there is a sizable group of the Prophets men clustered around the entrance.” I find that I am holding my breath as I wait for him to tell us what he is thinking. “The only way through is to draw their attention away from it.” He hesitates. “There’s not another way into the mines?” I ask. Surprising the first two guards was more luck then we deserved but to my thinking trying the same trick against a larger group would require more luck then the three of us had. I search Marcus’ face and I know he is thinking the same thing. He shakes his head. “The wall separating the mine from the city is solid steel embedded into the rock cliffs, the door is the only way across.” “What can we possibly do to distract them? There has to be a solution that doesn’t involve us splitting up.” I plead, not willing to give up. “We could try and shoot our way past them but that would no doubt draw every guard in the city down to this area.” I think out loud. “No. Shooting has to be our last resort. Give me a minute I’ll think of something.” “There has to be a way.” He adds. The three of us have shrunk into the shadows as we try to figure a way past the men blocking our only chance of escape. Suddenly Marcus stands up as an idea sprouts into his mind. “On my signal you two run for the door.” He tells us. “What are you going to do?” Annaliese ask, her voice laden with worry. “I’m going to create a diversion, draw as many guards away from the door as I can.” He replies leaving us before we can protest. He creeps back to the edge of the building where the streets meet, pauses a second then disappears from our sight. Grabbing Annaliese’s hand the two of us rush to the corner, stopping to peer across the street Marcus just entered. Clinging tight to the buildings wall we watch as he scuttles down the side of the buildings getting ever closer to the gate. Two-thirds of the way down the next block he runs across the street to a break in the buildings on the other side and into the opening. I feel Annaliese’s breath on my neck as the two of us remain hidden behind the corner wondering what Marcus has planned. He suddenly reappears hollering toward the guarded gate. “Here.” He cries and waves his arms frantically until he has the guard’s attention. “Over here. Hurry, over here. I just saw them run down the alley and around the corner.” He jumps and points down the alley then when most of the guards have left their post to head in his direction Marcus takes off running back down the alley and out of our sight. Annaliese’s gasps as she witnesses Marcus’s ploy. I keep my eyes on the door. All but one of the guards has gone chasing after Marcus. Standing up quickly I turn to Annaliese whispering instructions. “Stick tight against the building. We will only have one chance so we need to creep as close to that guard as we can while his attention is focused on the alley Marcus disappeared down.” I slide around the corner pulling Annaliese with me and then move as fast as I can in the cover of the building. The distance from our hiding spot to the door is not far. The whole time we are on the move, my eyes are fixed on the guards face expecting him to notice us. His gaze continues toward the spot his comrades disappeared to in search of Marcus. Still holding Annaliese’s hand we close the gap. Twenty feet away and the guard’s attention is still turned away from us. Fifteen feet. Thirteen feet. About ten feet out the guard swivels his head and looks right at us. Confused at the sight of us running straight at him causes a delayed reaction. I let go of Annaliese’s hand and without pause I charge right at the surprised guard. Using the advantage of my momentum and his confusion I lower my head and charge forward ploughing shoulder first into his chest. My rifle flies out of my hands as the force of the collision carries us both backward until we hit the wall at an angle. I hear his breath rush out of his mouth as he is pinned between the weight of my body and the solid wall behind him. I trip and fall away from the guard. He regains his footing first and grabs for his weapon when he suddenly stops, staggers and then falls in my direction. Annaliese is standing behind the spot vacated by the fallen guard with her hands still in the air, facing me, her stolen rifle clutched in her hands like a club. I nod my thanks to her as I scramble to my feet, quickly I dust off my robe and retrieve my gun. I hurry to the door and try the handle. Locked. The door will not budge. I rush back to the fallen guard and search for a key. Digging through the pockets in his robe I fail to find a key of any kind. I roll the man over onto his back. As I do a chain slips out from beneath the collar of his shirt. I grasp at the chain and pull. A key slides out and I quickly yank my fist back snapping the chain. I raise my hand in triumph and show my find to Annaliese then I hurry back to the door to try the lock. The key turns smoothly, we listen to the lock click open. Twisting the handle I swing the door inward slowly, I prepare myself for another guard on the other side. Stopping to have a look around I see a vast cavern bathed in bright lights. Noticing no other guards I pass Annaliese my rifle and rush over to the prone guard. Motioning for Annaliese to go ahead of me I drag the man through the doorway. When we are through I close the door and lock it before quickly glancing around again to reassure myself that my actions went unobserved. I remove the guard’s robe, tearing it into strips to tie the man up as we did with the other guards and then roll him tight against the bottom of the door. Reclaiming my gun I raise it and drove it into the guards head a couple of times. Panting from the excursion I straighten up and glance at Annaliese then around the huge cavern containing the oil mine. I stand still and look over the interior of the large cave. Not too many feet away to the left of the door stands a solid wall of craggy lava rock. The wall runs all the way to the underside of the cavern’s ceiling. Opposite the door, about twenty feet away is a metal rail. On the other side of the rail the stone shelf we stand on drops off. My eyes follow the rail as it runs to our right, several hundred feet away from the door is a building extended over the edge of the shelf with large braces angled from the buildings underside back toward the rock cliff. With my focus on the building I walk away from the door toward the metal railing. The hole on the other side of the rail is massive; I can barely make out the far side even with the bright lights that light the cavern. Annaliese follows close behind me as I near the rail. Convincing myself that we have gained entry to this side of the wall without being noticed, I turn my head as we reach the rail and together we look down. As one we both let out a gasp as we grip the metal rail and stare at the site below us. Check back every week for a new instalment of the online exclusive by Richard Cozicar The Ice Racer Marcus wheels around and looks at us with an expression of concern covering his face.
“He’s right. It won’t be safe here for the two of you much longer.” Turning his attention back to the young man who came to warn us. “Go back up the tunnel and warn us if you hear or see the guards coming.” Marcus instructs, the man quickly leaves our small gathering and bends to scoop up his discarded military robe on his way out. “What are you thinking?” Annaliese asks him. “Grab some supplies.” He replies. “We’ll have to stick to the tunnels for as long as we can…from there…I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out as we go.” I stand back and watch as Annaliese rummages through sacks stacked against a wall assembles a collection food and water and places them into a smaller sack. When she is finished she returns to our side. “Do these tunnels run under the whole city?” I ask. Marcus shakes his head before replying. “No. They’ll keep us out of sight for a while but we will eventually come to a dead end, there we’ll have to ascend to the streets.” I relieve Annaliese of the sack of supplies she has packed. Marcus passes me a flashlight as he takes one last look around the room then proceeds to check the hall leading from the hidden room before signalling us to move. We follow Marcus for a short distance down the tunnel before he ducks into an intersecting tunnel that leads us in a different direction away from the original entrance. The lava tunnels change from a comfortable open space to where we have to squeeze and crawl through further sections. The three of us hurry through the labyrinth of sharp lava rock tunnels in silence. How Marcus knows where each tunnel leads and what direction to follow is beyond me. He leads us past tunnel after tunnel walking in some, crawling through others. The stale air is laced with the smell of sulphur from the volcanic rock. The confined spaces grow humid and tight but still Marcus leads on at as fast a pace as we can manage. Coming to a halt in a closet sized cavern Marcus paces for a second in the little space before talking. “We are going to have to surface not far from here. These tunnels end under a street a few blocks away from the entrance to the oil mines.” He says while staring into Annaliese’s eyes. His face is contorted with apprehension. “Is that were you are leading us?” Annaliese asks with an evident note of surprise. “There’s no where else to go.” He diverts his eyes. “You know that your dad will have the city torn apart for looking for you two. The people in this city are too scared of him and the rest of the prophets and most would never consider helping or hiding you for fear of retribution. Even for a short time.” He adds. On our journey Marcus had summarized a brief history about the small resistance that had been growing in the city against the iron-fisted rule of the prophets. A large portion of the people of Adam’s Mountain resented being over lorded and this resentment had been festering for years but the majority of town folk were too afraid to act fearing being sentenced to the oil mines. The city people would guardedly grumble to their closest friends and then look at their neighbours while suspiciously wondering if they were spies for the Prophets. The distrust that rippled through the community helped the Prophets maintain rule. “Can’t we leave the same way I was brought here?” I implore. “No. The path ends not far from the city. A giant crevice makes it a dead end. Several people have died trying to cross it.” “Then how about along the lava river, surely we could follow it away from here.” “It closes up farther past the city, besides, the heat from the river would kill you before you travelled very deep into it.” Marcus releases a quick breath. “Your only hope is to climb through and cross the oil mine and try for the air chute, it will take you to the surface.” I gape at Marcus, confused by what he is saying. “The surface.” I repeat as I try to comprehend his words. “Annaliese doesn’t have a thermal suit like mine. I don’t know this place at all, but I have to believe there is another choice. She would not survive out there, not even for a short period.” I argue. In my mind I am frantically searching for a plausible solution. “Hell, I don’t even know if I could survive on the surface without a sled full of luck.” Annaliese gently touches my arm. “They will kill you if they catch you.” She states matter-of-factly. “We don’t have much of a choice.” “What will happen if they catch you?” I search her face for answers as I ask. She turns to look at Marcus; the two exchange a knowing look. “I’ll be alright.” She mumbles, but her face pales in the glow of the flashlight. “How about you Marcus? If your friend talks they will know that you two helped me.” There is obviously something they aren’t telling me. I push further, “I am not going another step until you guys level with me.” “Dissidents get sent to the oil mine as punishment.” He quietly confirms. “I can avoid them, Annaliese should be okay…her father is the High Prophet.” He says without sounding convincing. “So the only real option we have is if the three of us leave the city? That is the only option I will accept. If the three of us can’t escape then you two should turn me in and tell Annaliese’s father that you recaptured me. I won’t let you take the fall for me you don’t even know me. This is insane!” “Let’s get away from the city and try to cross the oil mine then we can worry about what to do after.” Marcus declares. “We need to get out of these tunnels. If they start searching down here we’ll be trapped and we won’t have any choices.” We continue, Marcus in the lead as we snake through the tunnels. Suddenly the beam from Marcus’ flashlight highlights a solid wall of made of rough, sharp rock that appears to have footholds chiselled in it. “Turn the lights off.” Marcus whispers as he set a foot on the rock ready to climb. In the blackness Annaliese and I wait. The only sound comes from Marcus’s feet in their search for the footholds as he works his way to the surface, only to be punctuated by intervals of the sound our nervous breathing makes. The scraping of metal signals his arrival at the top of the climb. Then a light flashes back down lighting the wall and the floor. “Its clear. Hurry, climb up.” He urges as he shines his light for us to see our way up the jagged wall of rock. I motion for Annaliese to go ahead of me, then with caution I follow her to the street above. Marcus helps her climb out and then lowers a hand to assist me. Out on the street we wait while Marcus gently replaces the cover hiding the tunnel’s entrance then we all creep to the side of the alley we have emerged into. In the shadow of a building we wait while Marcus adjusts his military disguise. When he is finished he whispers for us to follow and leads the way to the end of the alley. Abruptly stopping he points. “We’ve got about another six blocks until we come to the entrance of the oil mine.” He describes. “If we are lucky enough to cover the distance undetected we will have to find away around the mine’s guards and down into the pit before we can cross it.” He has already explained to me how the mine was the most guarded part of the city, not so much to keep city dwellers away, no one in the city was overly eager to see never mind venture into the pit he has depicted, but to insure the dissidents sentenced to a life of labour in the mines have no chance of escape. He did add that the Prophets were extremely protective of the mine. Without it the city would surely perish. Giving us the signal to move from the mouth of the alley we stealthily creep along in the buildings shadows, our target the start of a new alley that will lead us on a direct route to the mouth of the oil mine. Ten strides away from the alley we had just departed a stern voice calls to us. “Identify yourself.” Two guards appear at the far end of the block stepping out of shadows and raising their guns. The three of us stop dead in our tracks. The room remained quiet as I processed Annaliese’s news. At first I was saddened by the thought of him being alive and held prisoner and then anger replaced my sorrow. I looked at the walls searching for answers.
“How…when did he…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question. I struggled with my emotions, despair, sorrow and anger. I continued gazing around the room, starting and stopping speaking while my mind spun out of control. A hand reaches out and takes mine. Annaliese watches my face, tears staining hers. Breathing deeply I fight for control. “What happened?” I ask in a much calmer tone then I feel. “Did you talk to him much, how did he…die?” I needed her to tell me everything about his stay here. She leads me over to a cluster of chairs. When we’re seated she composes herself and with great effort she starts at the beginning of the arrival of my father and the other men from the Capital City. The men were marched through the city from the opposite end that I appeared, the Prophets proclaiming that the outsiders were caught spying on the city. The procession traveling past throngs of wide-eyed city dwellers that stared at the strangers as harbingers of evil. The crowds angered by those who posed a threat to their peaceful existence. The men were led to the cages and awaited a ruling by the Prophets on their punishment. Annaliese’s face brightens as she tells of the talks she has with the prisoners. At first she admits she was scared and intimidated by the strange men. She had been tasked with delivering their meals and had ignored the men’s attempt to talk to her but slowly she became less afraid and more curious about the newcomers and the world where they lived. The prisoners regaled her with stories of the ice dome they called a city and the brutal fight on the planets surface, a surface that was as alien to her as this shiny city was to them. She stopped in her tale and smiled, more to herself than to me. “Your father bragged about you, you know. He constantly said his last wish was to see you one more time.” The smile faded. “When I saw you locked in that cage a few days ago I was certain you were his son. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do but I knew that I would not let you end up like the others.” Her eyes welled up again as she looked at me. A weak smile returns to her face. I was stumped, I didn’t know what to do or say. I choked out thanks and waited for her to continue. She told me of the mock trial the prisoners were put through and how in the end they were branded as spies and sentenced to work in the oil mines. Not certain what the oil mines was I asked her to explain? “The mines.” She said. “They are really a underground pit where oil was discovered hundreds of years ago by our ancestors. They are the reason the prophets built this city and have jealously fought to keep it a secret from outsiders.” She paused recalling the cities history. “When the world turned against the prophets they retreated back to Adams Mountain as a refuge. Then, according to our history the climate on the surface changed. When the volcanoes shook the earth releasing the dust and ash and blocking the sun our ancestors were trapped here.” “Then the temperature continued cooling and as the surface slowly became uninhabitable the prophets people began tearing down the giant metal wind machines and began constructing this city.” “By some miracle, we are told, the heat from the city combined with the close proximity of the Adams volcano kept the snow and ice from consuming the city. As the ice and snow built and the cold increased the city was enveloped with the heated air and over decades an ice dome formed over the city to shroud and protect us.” “The oil mines. Who works them, where are they?” I pried. Then the question I was skirting around. I gulped before asking. “Can I go there? Is my father buried there...is there some…” I fought for the right words. “…Is there some kind of reminder of him there?” She shook her head again but wouldn’t look at me. “I’m so sorry.” She repeated again as if she was to blame for his death. Everyone in the room remained quiet leaving me to deal with the news. I sat motionless. I had never grieved for his loss before because against all odds I held out a flicker of hope that one day I would meet him again. I sat for hours lost in my thoughts, memories of my father and the brief time we shared together played over and over again in my mind. A rustling by some of the others pulled me out of my reverie. I sat and watched as several of Annaliese’s group donned the military robes they had worn when I arrived and appeared to be about to leave. Standing I walked over to where they had gathered and tried to figure out what was happening. I remained quiet as the group talked amongst themselves and then started to leave the room. When only Annaliese and a couple of others remained I turned to her. She must have noticed the puzzled look on my face. “The city will be awakening soon, they have to return to their homes before their absence is noticed.” She explained. “What about you.” I asked but as the words left my mouth the dawning of what she had done for me struck home. “Won’t your father and the others wonder how I escaped?” I waited for her to answer but the question was rhetorical. She looked at me then turned away. Quietly she murmured. “They will know.” “You were the only one who had access?” I hoped I was wrong in my assumption. She walked away leaving me standing alone. From the door Marcus came to my side. “She can’t return home, can she?” “No. She will be hunted the same as you.” He replied sadly. “She knew the risk she was taking when she released you.” He added. “We tried to talk her out of doing it but she said she was willing to take the risk.” “What will happen now?” “Well…I suppose we wait down here and let the Prophet’s men search the city until they convince themselves that the two of you have left.” “Will they.” My tone was underlined with worry, not so much for myself but for Annaliese, the daughter of the High Prophet. “I’m not sure. Nobody has ever left the city before.” “Is there a way out, a way back to the surface?” “There must be but none of us have ever tried.” He pondered my query. “The Prophets send men out on excursions to the surface but how and why is not something that they share.” “So what?” “We hide here and hope that they don’t discover us.” I fired back. “How many people know about this room, the tunnels under the city that we came here through?” “Very few.” He answered. “This small group you met here is all. We discovered these tunnels years ago and have kept them secret.” “How long do you think they will search?” “Again. I don’t know. The Prophets are relentless with their rules, they make and uphold the laws with out any leniency.” Leaving Marcus I wandered over to where Annaliese stood. “I guess I’m the one who should be sorry.” I apologised. She turned her face up to me and smiled a weak smile. All through the day and into the next evening we sat and bided our time. It was nerve wracking sitting hidden and not knowing what was happening in the city streets half expecting the Prophet’s guards to come bursting through the door. Idly chatting, Marcus and Annaliese told me of the dangerous hard labour awaited those who were sentenced to the oil mines. “There can’t possibly be enough…” I searched for the right word. Prisoners were all I could come up with to describe foreigners to this hidden city. “Prisoners to work the mines and I can’t see the people of this city volunteering to work them if they are as dangerous as you describe?” I waited for an answer as I tried to wrap my mind around how this city functioned. Marcus depicted how people who objected or questioned the Prophets were subjected to a life in the mines as a way to discourage further dissidence and to quell any resistance to the Prophets. Needing time to myself I sat alone and dug out my reading paper trying to remove my mind from the waiting and worrying of the present situation. Annaliese joined me after a while. “I have seen old papers like yours before.” She said. “I thought you said that your history records only went back to the start of this city?” “All the public ones are.” Then she went on to clarify. “Years ago when these tunnels were discovered Marcus came across some old papers stashed in a cave a little distance from the city.” “The story in those papers is similar to the one that is written in yours.” “You didn’t turn it into the Prophets?” I asked curiously. “No. When Marcus showed me the papers we agreed to keep them hidden. Over the years we have heard rumblings, rumours really that the history taught us by the Prophets, my father included, was written to add truth to their teachings. A way to keep the people of the city from wondering about or questioning our laws.” Throughout the day members of Marcus’s group would pop into the hidden room and update us on the search now taking place. The city had been placed under a very strict curfew as the Prophet’s men roamed the streets and checked building after building in pursuit of me. Most of the city’s residents were forbidden from leaving their homes. We were told that the city was at a standstill, the lives of the Prophet’s followers halted because of the lockdown, as the already nervous population of the city remained mostly indoors scared of what was happening. Marcus explained to me that as far as he could remember a search of this magnitude had never before happened. The city had a small underground resistance of sorts to the ruling Prophets but it had never grown big enough to cause the leaders of the city any worry. Aside from watching a few of the resistance from a distance the leaders had not attempted to quell the small secretive gatherings. Names were known, people and groups spied on but never to the extent where the population was ever harassed or locked down. I sat talking with Annaliese when the door of the hidden room was flung open interrupting us. One of the men who had been here when I first arrived rushed into the room and ran to Marcus. Annaliese and I jumped up and hurried over to them. “Daniel was taken by the guards to see the Prophets.” The man gushed. “He wasn’t going voluntarily by the way he was struggling with them.” “He knows where this place is, that these two are hiding here.” He spoke frantically. “What if he talks?” “Where are we? “ I ask her. “What’s with the guards?” Questions roll out of my mouth as I try to figure out what is going on. I stand looking down into her eyes waiting for an explanation. Why is she working with the guards? I wonder, is this how the prisoners are done away with.
Turning my head I scan the room. Small groups of people are clustered. The sound of mumbled conversations radiate around me. The groups looking at me then quickly averting their eyes as my gaze falls upon them. One of the guards in a small group at the far end of the room strides in my direction followed by the others in the group he was talking with. He stops beside Annaliese and extends his hand. “I am Marcus.” He says as he shakes my hand. “Annaliese has told us about you. It was her idea for us to help free you from your cell.” “But you’re a guard?” I reply trying to understand their reasoning. “Why would you help free me?” Marcus laughs as he looks at the military garb he is wearing. He shrugs out of his robe and tosses it against the wall. The other guards in the room follow his lead. “Disguises.” He explains as the smile leaves his face. “The city is under a permanent curfew. When the evening lights are turned down only the night watchmen are allowed out doors and on the streets, the rest of us are required to remain indoors and all gatherings are prohibited.” “So you are all here against policy?” I ask. “What will happen when my disappearance is discovered or are you planning to return me to my cage before that happens?” Marcus looks at Annaliese. The two shrug. “We haven’t planned that far ahead yet. This has never happened before, none of the other prisoners have ever left their cells until it was time for them to be taken to the oil mines.” I digest this news. “Have there been a lot of prisoners before me…?” I pause. “So if none of the others have left…why me?” I have to ask. Marcus remains looking at Annaliese then he prods her on. “Go ahead…tell him.” She drops her gaze to the ground and nervously shuffles her feet. The murmuring in the room stops, I look around at the others in the room. Again nobody meets my gaze. Annaliese shuffles a while longer then starts talking. I strain to hear her voice. “Several years ago a group of men where brought down here. They were paraded through the city and branded as spies…” She went quiet again. “…Where they came from nobody knew…how they came to be here was a mystery.” “You have to understand. The prophets control this city, they control everything that goes on around here so if they say the men were spies then we believe that they are spies.” “I was the only one aside from the guards and the prophets allowed any contact with the men. My dad is the high Prophet so I was chosen to deliver food to the prisoners while they remained in the cages.” “During their short lockup I talked with them asking them where they came from, why they would spy on us, why they wanted to do us harm.” She grew quiet again. I waited wondering what this had to do with me. “The stories they told me were entirely different then the explanation my dad and the other prophets spread. You see, very few of us in this city have ever wandered outside the city limits other than short walks into the lava fields but no one has dared venture to the surface. In fact very few would even know how to get there.” “The prophet’s words are law in this city so we have had no reason to doubt them but after listening to the strangers I had a hard time believing that they were sent here to do us harm. The men told me that the military guards from this city accosted them while they were making a run in what they called an ice sled.” The term ice sled caught my attention. “What did they look like…how long ago was this?” I blurted out the questions. Numerous crews from the New Capital had been lost over the years while running the surface, could this be one of our crews? Annaliese’s gaze once again returned to the floor her voice growing quieter. “One of the men said he was an explorer. He told me that he was assigned to the crew and was searching for signs of metals or fuels that his city was so desperate for.” She continued ignoring my queries, her voice now a whisper. “This man was older but he looked just like you, Mike.” She finished then raised her head to look at me, the rims of her eyes wet, a tear slowly meandering down her cheek. I was speechless. I was a teenager when my father and the crew he was accompanying failed to return to the Capital. More victims lost to the frozen unforgiving surface of this desolate planet. The loss of my father was the reason I became an ice racer. Secretly I hoped that in my travels on the surface I would stumble across the lost ship and at least have a chance to bid my father farewell. Over the years my determination waned and as time went on reality slowly set in and his memory started to fade. I came to accept the fact that he was gone and I would never see him again…and now this. Annaliese had to be mistaken. My father and his crew were lost on the surface like all the others before and after, unable to defy the odds of survival against the blizzards and winds, the freezing temperatures that ruled the surface of our planet, how would they end up here. I struggled with the dilemma, memories of my father flooded back. Finally I found my voice and with hope stared in her face. “Is he here now perhaps in the oil mines you talk about or still held as a prisoner elsewhere in this city?” “Can you take me to him?” I asked hopefully. More tears flowed over Annaliese’s face as she returned my stare shaking her head. “I’m so sorry.” She blurted. Check back every week for a new instalment of the online exclusive by Richard Cozicar The Ice Racer I let out my breath then gave the cage door a shove. It moves ever so slightly and the hinges squeal that horrid noise only metal on metal can make. If this is a trap I am fool enough to bite. I pull the hood of the robe over my visor and stand in the opening while I study the crudely drawn map.
The first line of the map directs me straight down the long dark hallway of the building, the way Annaliese came and went. I am only feet from the front door of the building and a short run back into the rocky landscape that I had crossed coming to the city. I debate the door then without further hesitation I turn to my left and as quietly as possible I move in the direction drawn on the map. The sounds of my footsteps ring in the still darkness. I pass a long row of cages similar to the one I had left. The hallway seems endless as the darkness gives way to the enhanced light of my visor. I feel so anxious. I keep expecting to hear the sounds of running feet at any second as my escape is discovered. A grey metal door appears at the outer limits of my view. A sliver of light outlines the slightly open door. Creeping closer I strain to detect sounds of movement from the other side. As gently as I can I slowly push the door open ahead of me, still tense, still waiting for some kind of alarm announcing my escape? The lights in this section burn a little brighter, another long building with shelves and lockers. Half way down the map shows a door. With a little bit more urgency I hurry, ignoring the clap, clap of my boots on the hard floor. The next door is also sitting ajar. I stand tight to the door again listening for unseen activity. The hum of the city generators is the only sound. Overhead lights greet me as I step outside the building, brighter than the prison I was in but not awash in light like during the daytime when I arrived. I stop and look around. The long building blocks my view of the streets that I had walked entering the building. I’m in an alley of sorts, the map points in the opposite direction of the city entrance. Most of the alley is cast in long shadows. For the next hour I follow the maps direction, away from the openness of the craggy volcano rocks and deeper into the heart of the city. The farther way from the cage I get the less I think this was a setup and the more I am hoping that Annaliese had somehow set this in action. The place is quiet, eerily quiet other than the constant hum of the machinery powering the city. I start jogging wanting to bring an end to this journey. Coming up to a break in the alley I am about to round the corner when I see beams of light coming from the around the corner. Stopping short, my heart pounding in my chest I cast my eyes about for a place to hide. A few steps behind me there is a cluster of crates and a large metal bin. I squeeze into a small opening between the crates and the bin. I press my back against a wall as I fight the pounding in my chest and wait. Seconds, maybe minutes pass. The distinct sound of footsteps approaches quickly followed by voices. Twin beams of light travel across the ground at my feet. Searching but not whole-heartedly. My pulse pounds in my head almost deafening me. I find that I am holding my breath scared that the sound of my breathing will betray my hiding spot. The beams of light pass over again and the footsteps signal the lights carriers moving away from where I wait. When I can no longer hear the footfalls in the alley I gradually peer around the bin. The beams of light are faint and moving much further away, the people holding the lights are wearing the same type of military outfits as the guards who had marched me to the cage after my capture. Once again I release my breath and slip from my hiding space and head for the exit on the opposite side of the alley. Warily I look around the corner and find to my relief that it is deserted allowing me to continue following the route that was mapped out for me. I walk and then run almost the length of the hand drawn trail. I must be miles from the entrance now, from my calculations, the taller metal buildings completely block any view of the way I have come. In the final alley of my trek through the deserted, unfamiliar environment I stop and study the map one last time. Somewhere close to me should be a door? I search the shadowed walls in the dark lane. I spot other crates and bins stacked against walls on both sides of me. Moving with deliberation I study the walls up close, searching through the dark shadows for some type of opening, any break indicating a door. My concentration is totally focused on finding the opening. A hand grasps my shoulder. I freeze, afraid to turn around. Then accepting that I’m caught I work my hand under my robe and finger the bent spoon in my suit. It’s the only weapon I have but with the element of surprise I am determined to fight my way free. I turn quickly, the spoon in my hand shooting upwards. A grunt as my weapon hits flesh. Then just as quickly the spoon is knocked from my grasp and I am thrown back into the wall. My head jars as it contacts the wall. Bright lights buzz in my brain obscuring my sight. I shake my head to clear my eyes. Standing in front of me is a small group all dressed in the same robes as the guards? I am prepared to launch myself off the wall into the group when the guy I stabbed holds up his hand to silence me and then motions me to follow. His other hand over the hole in his shoulder he received from my bent spoon, a wet dark patch under his hand. As one the group turns their backs to me moving toward a metal bin and a pile of crates. The group walks toward an opening between the two objects and then through an open door not discernable unless one is looking for it. The last one to cross turns and motions me to hurry up. I take a couple long strides and cross the threshold; the door is closed behind me. Once again I am motioned to remain silent as I am led deeper into the building and into a small room. On the floor a hatch is pulled open revealing a set of stairs in a weakly lit opening. I follow the robed people down two flights of hastily constructed stairs, slightly sturdier than a ladder. From the stairs into tunnels built beneath the city. I pause to look around at the tunnels, which look more like natural openings in the lava rock than man made. This journey down and under the city lasts another half-hour at best, the trial ending in a room sized, softly lit cavern. Standing across the room I spot Annaliese. She looks up as I enter behind my guides and as our eyes meet she smiles, a sad, timid, sorrowful smile. I stand at the entrance trying to figure out what was going on. Why would she be hiding with military guards and why bring me here? She crosses the floor and stands in front of me. Then raising her hand she passes my reading paper back. I look at her trying to understand. Again she smiles her sad smile, as she looks me in the eye. “I told you not to give up hope.” She says but in her eyes and smile I read something else. Check back every week for a new instalment of the online exclusive by Richard Cozicar The Ice Racer Annaliese left the prisoner and walked through the long building. The reading paper the man had given her secretly hidden in the folds of her robe. As soon as she returned the tray to the building’s cooking area she would race to the privacy of her room in what the towns folk secretly called the palace.
Her father’s house wasn’t anything like a palace but it was certainly grander than the other homes in the city. A perk she supposed came with being an elder and the most revered Prophet. Until now she had paid no attention to the whispers and snide remarks from the other towns people. People were very careful about what they said when she was around but she occasionally overheard their shielded cries of discontent. Her father and the other prophets were stringent and not at all forgiving when it came to the rules being followed. To question the Prophet’s laws or beliefs was received with extreme prejudice and any outward show of defiance was treated as blasphemy and dealt with quickly and harshly. This she accepted without question, but in her outings around the city she could tell that not everyone had the same unwavering faith. Ever since the stranger had been captured she had started questioning the strict system. The one time when she was a child and she had raised her concerns to her father she was sternly scolded and warned about such dangerous thoughts, even threatened of the consequences of rebellious thinking. The repeated and scripted explanations her father used to quell her doubts started to sound feeble and contrite. Annaliese knew that being the daughter of the High Prophet, she of all people should without a doubt accept the word of her father but after seeing the fear hidden behind the eyes of the city’s inhabitants she could no longer simply ignore the depressed and scared nature of the general population. If her father found or even suspected that she had on her person a paper containing word of a history that preceded their own records and was different than the written archives in the city she would be dealt with in the harsh manner that had befallen other free thinkers, High Prophet’s daughter or not. A lot of the archives in the libraries and schools contained accounts of history that she found harder and harder to believe as her mind searched for clearer meanings, the explanations didn’t make total sense to her whenever she spent time thoughtfully reviewing them. The accounts of the Climate Prophets and history of the city were taught to the young when they were old enough to understand and presented as the one and only truth. Annaliese rushed back to her room and locked her door before tentatively sliding the reading paper out from the protection of her robe. Sitting in her bedside chair on her folded legs she soon became engrossed in words and a history alien to that which she learned as a child. Skimming back and forth through the paper she at first dismissed the new accounts of history and then found that some of the writings fit better with what she had pieced together than the twisted artificial history the Prophets wrote and preached. Not to say the writings weren’t still disturbing to her. She paused in her reading. How could she even consider this paper to be anything close to the truth? Could the prisoner not have believed in a history that was falsely presented to him and believe in it the same way she was told to believe the Prophet’s version? Wouldn’t she be conceived as being irrational by simply dismissing a history that she lived with all her life, a history accepted as gospel by the entire city for a written narration passed to her by a complete stranger, in fact maybe even a spy as he was being called although she didn’t think he was a spy or was that because she kind of liked him. He seemed different than the people of the city, gentle in a way. For some reason she had a hard time believing that he came here to do any harm to the city or her. Long into the night she read about the rise of the Climate Prophets, the climate wars and then the construction of the giant wind turbines and how eventually the earth started to vibrate and shake. How long doormat volcanoes became active again spewing ash and dust. How soon all the world’s volcanoes began erupting at the same time until the combination of dust and ash blocked out the sun slowly freezing and killing the planet. She had never left this city, she had never been to the surface, the Prophets forbade it, but she had heard rumours that the surface consisted of nothing more than ice and snow like this diary claimed. The deeper into the paper she read the more uncertain of the Prophet’s version of history she became. Alone in my cell again I sit down to eat the food the girl brought me. Each mouthful was chewed with no memory of the taste of the food as I dwelled on her parting words and then dismissing the subject I laid down and resumed planning my escape. If she was right and they came for me tomorrow I needed a plan of some sort once I was removed from this cage. Where they were to hold this council and how many people it involved was an unknown. I knew that the more people around the harder it would be to escape so if I was going to get away it would have to be between this cage and the area where the meeting was to be held. How many guards would they send? The same number that escorted me to this building I wondered. If it was four again I needed a plan to overpower them, maybe wrestle a gun away. How well trained the guards were I had no idea but I knew that the years of hard work on the ice sled had given me an uncommon amount of strength and for my sake hopefully enough to overpower the number of guards sent to retrieve me. I lay thinking, my hand turning over a spoon from the tray of food. The spoon was made of a light metal and bent very easily. I played with it bending it this way and that until I fashioned a stout point on the end then I stuffed it in my suit. As a last resort I could at least gouge with it. It was the only object I had for a weapon. The hour was growing late. I left the metal shelf and restlessly paced the small confines of my cell, my thoughts flashing between my captivity and Annaliese. I started to tire so I sat back down. If something was to happen to me tomorrow I didn’t want to spend my last hours sleeping or so I told myself as I struggled to keep my eyes open. Sleep eventually overcame me. Sometime later I was roused from a troubled sleep by the sounds of clanking on the cages bars. By the time I discovered where the sound had come from and stood at the bars distant footsteps in the dark were all that remained. Disgusted by my tardiness I was about to return to the metal shelf when I glanced down. On the floor at the outside of the cage was a bundle. I bend down to examine it. Squeezing my arm through the bars I grab the bundle and by twisting and pulling I work it through the bars. As I lift up my hands to have a closer look something falls and clinks against the floor. Up close the bundle reveals itself. A robe. In the dim light I can see that it is a brown robe like I saw the town folks wearing. I don’t get it. What meaning would the robe have? Then I remembered the sound of clinking. Kneeling down I slowly search for the object that fell. The light was too dim so I place my visor on and look again. Inches from my cell lay a shiny flat object. Once again squeezing my arm through the bars up to my shoulder, I stretch my fingers and then slide them along the floor until I feel the object, which I work closer to the cage. I slide it close enough so I can use my finger and grab it. Raising it to my visor I study it, a strange looking object, one that I have not seen much of before, a key. Then it dawns on me as I look toward the door on the cage. Maybe, just maybe this is my way out of here. I stand for only a second contemplating the object and the robe and who might have left them then with a rushed urgency I pull the robe on over my suit. My hands go instinctively into the front pockets, checking. My right hand closes over a piece of paper. Drawing it up to my visor I check it out. A crude map is drawn on the one side of the small piece. For an instant I think this might be a trap but it’s a chance I am willing to take. I reach my hand through the bars, the metal in my hand held tight. Reaching and twisting I line the key up with the front of the cages lock. I am careful not to drop the metal while I manoeuvre it toward the hole in the door of the cage. It takes some patience but I finally manage to insert the key in the lock and holding my breath I twist. Clunk. Check back every week for a new instalment of the online exclusive by Richard Cozicar The Ice Racer. Standing tight to the bars of my cage my gaze remained lost in the dark where Annaliese disappeared. A feeling of despair overtakes me. What can I do, how can I leave when I can’t even get out of this cage?
Pushing off the bars I dejectedly arrive at the steel shelf and sit down, the tray of food forgotten. Sitting hunched over I stare unblinking at the floor ready to surrender to what ever awaits me. Then gradually the bleakness that has me in its grip starts to recede. Sitting up straight I gulp a few breaths of air. It occurs to me that I have faced far greater dangers on the frozen unforgiving surface of this miserable planet while working on my ice sled. A dangerous occupation causing many of our people before me to be lost to the ravages of the ice and snow while transporting goods across the plains, goods the New Capital desperately relied on for further survival. I once again take stock of what I have. In the cage with me I have nothing, but outside the cage the environment is warm and the air is breathable. Outside of the building I am locked in are thousands of people and a whole city of wonder; surely there is something I can use, some sort of tools or weapons to aid in my escape. I stand up and pace, my mind focused on recalling everything I noticed on my short walk to this building. The crowds of people, the tall shiny buildings behind them, guards with guns and maybe somewhere in all of that a way out. Annaliese had said something about pumping air from the surface which means there has to be a way up and out of here. She had also told me the name of this place is called the Adams Mountain City. From the few geography lessons we were taught at the New Capital the Adams Mountain was less than forty miles from Mount St. Helens. I thought about this. Forty miles didn’t seem that far but on the surface when you’re fighting against frequent blizzards and minus seventy-degree temperatures, even with my thermal suit, walking the forty miles would be near impossible. Without the ability to recharge the batteries in my suit I wouldn’t last more than a couple of days. My backpack and shovel had been forgotten back on the trail and I didn’t think I ‘d have the time to retrieve them. The afternoon passed while I was lost in thought planning my escape. The sound of feet shuffling from the far end of the room roused me, supper no doubt. I glanced at the uneaten food on the tray that was delivered earlier. Grabbing the tray I walked the short distance to the bars ready to exchange the trays. I released a quiet sigh of relief when I noticed Annaliese carrying the food. Waiting for her to slide the new tray through the opening I slid the tray with my cold dinner back to her. “Is there something wrong with the food?” I detected a touch of concern in her voice as she asked. “Um…no, I am sure it is fine. I don’t have much of an appetite I guess with the worry of what is going to happen to me.” I lied. I couldn’t really tell her that I had forgotten all about the food as I tried to figure out a plan for my escape. She lifted her head and with sorrow filled eyes briefly looked me in the face before dropping her gaze back to the floor. “They are to take you to council tomorrow.” She whispered. “Soon after that I am certain that they will do away with you…I’m sorry.” The words barely escaped her lips. “I don’t want to die yet, especially here in a strange city.” I stammered as a flash of anger took hold of me. “No. I will not die here.” “I am sorry.” She apologized again and she stood on the other side of the bars looking at me. “You don’t have to apologize.” I consoled her. “It isn’t your fault.” Then not wanting to be left alone I asked. “Can you stay and talk for a while.” She didn’t answer but remained standing, the tray clasped in her hands. “What do you do here?” I started the conversation hoping she would stick around. “Not too much.” She finally answered. “My father is one of the Prophets so I have free run of the city. When I watched the guards bring you here I volunteered to deliver your meals.” “Well, thanks I guess. What’s it like living here?” I quickly fired off the question searching for a way to get her talking. “Are you happy here? What do you do with your time?” She told me how she was in the habit of roaming the city helping out where ever she could and about the day-to-day workings of the city, sadness underlining the tone of her voice. Changing the subject she asked me about the place I called home. I told her about the giant ice cave at the bottom of Mount St. Helens and how I was an Ice Racer. I forgot about my captivity as I described my ice sled and explained how I basically lived on the surface while my crew and I explored and transported the meagre supplies of oil and scavenged materials we were able to find. I marvelled at how lucky she was to be living in a city that had power and heat and I presumed good food from the trays she had served me. Unlike the substance we ate back at the Capital. Food that consisted mostly of a type of moss that grows along the rivers of lava. We have a small variety of food that the producers carefully tend but the quantities are small due to the lack of proper heat and light. “I would offer you a chair.” I say in way of lightening the mood and waved my arm in a sweeping motion around the cell. For an instant the corners of her mouth lift in what is almost a smile. “I’m good.” She responds. “You told me about your reading paper…would you mind if I looked at it?” I hesitated. The paper was my most prized possession and I jealously guarded it. “You said something about it containing writings about the Prophets. How far back in time does this paper go?” She stopped. “All the writings we have here date back to the founding of this city, nothing before that. We are told that writings before this time were blasphemous and contained nothing but lies about our people.” I slipped the paper out of my suit thinking about her request before shoving it through the bars toward her. She set the tray of cold food on the floor and gingerly took my offering. “There’s a button on the bottom to turn it on.” I instructed. She slid her thumb over the button and held it until the power on my reading paper lit up. I remained silent as she quickly swiped page after page. Her eyes lit up as she noticed the dates of the diary entries. “Did this stuff really happen?” She asked with out taking her eyes off the paper. I launched into a brief family history and how my great-great grandfather started the diary before the climate wars and how the paper was passed down to my grandfather then my father and finally to me. “I have never thought about it that way but I can’t imagine people making up things to write in a diary. The history the elders taught us in school told the same story.” I explained who the elders were and how we relied on their recollection of history because of the lack of writing material. All our teachings were done orally and memorized, passed down from generation to generation, there was no other way. I thought hard about what I was about to do and then gulped before speaking. “Why don’t you take the paper with you and read it. If I’m to be done away with tomorrow I would rather you have it then it be lost or destroyed.” I tried to add with bravado so she wouldn’t worry. Hiding my paper under her robe she bent to pick up the food tray and turned to walk away. “Don’t give up hope just yet.” I heard her whisper as her footsteps retreated into the darkness at the end of the building. Check back every week for a new instalment of the online exclusive by Richard Cozicar The Ice Racer. I stood gazing into the dark long after she disappears. I stand glued to the spot, the tray in my arms all but forgotten as I try to make sense out of her warning. Who would do away with me? The old men running the place, the guards…who?
And what did she mean by the others. What others? Were there a lot of people locked in these cages before me. The weight of the tray on my arms breaks into my thoughts. I walk over to the metal shelf and set the tray down and sit beside it. I don’t know what to do about this new development. First I am swept off my ice sled, then the fall through the ice cavity to the bottom of this cavern. If the all of that and the discovery of the strangers on the path wasn’t enough, now I find myself locked up in a cage awaiting an uncertain future. I take stock of what I have with me. Not much. I had forgotten my pack miles back when I had gone in search of water and then came across the people on the path. All I have remaining is my reading paper and my thermal suit. Not much to work with. I remove my helmet and check to make sure I have powered off my thermal suit to save the batteries, I have a feeling I will need it when I take my leave of this place. The ominous warning by the girl resonates through my mind and I have no plans to be done away with by anybody. The tray contains solid food of some sort and a flask of water. I sample the food while I sit in the dark. It’s good, unlike the drab sustenance I’m used to. Daydreaming I wonder what it’s like to live in this shiny city eating tasty food and walking about without a helmet to filter the air and no need for a heat suit. Paradise I realize. Too bad I have come upon it under such unfriendly conditions. I gobble down the food and drain the flask then settle back waiting for whatever comes next. I sit and try to remain vigilant but the combined warmth of the building and the food makes me sleepy. The creaking of an opening door stirs me from my sleep; the lights in the room turn on. Blinking my eyes for focus it takes me a second to remember where I am. Voices approach from the doorway and then a group of old men gather at the bars of my cage inspecting me. “Why have you come here? How did you find us?” One of the elders asks. “Who sent you?” “I fell through the ice from the surface. No one sent me because we didn’t know you existed or that your city was down here.” I tied to explain. I watch the men look at each other, disbelieving looks exchanged between them. “My name is Mike Ryan. I’m an ice racer. I come from the New Capital, a long way from here, at the base of Mount St. Helens.” I keep talking trying to convince them that what I say is the truth. The group turns their back on me mumbling to each other amongst themselves. They turn back in my direction and continue watching me like a specimen in a…in a cage. “We’ll be back to talk to you.” The spokesman for the group says as they leave. When the door closes the lights go out and I find myself standing in the dark alone with my thoughts again. I need a way out of this cage and I need it soon. I hear a sound from the far end of the row of cages. The morning has passed. The same girl walks out of the darkness, another tray in her hands. She stops short of my cage and raises her head to look at me, wary that I’m standing close to the bars. Backing away I talk to her. “What’s your name? What did you mean last night when you said they would do away with me?” She slides the tray through the slot and waits for me to grab it then she backs away and with her head motions to the used tray sitting on the shelf. I quickly exchange trays and slide the empty one back through the slot. “Annaliese.” She replies then lowers her eyes to the ground. “Where are we Annaliese?” I ask trying desperately to start a conversation. She remains quiet and in the dim light I can see she’s nervous. “What is this place?” I try again. “We live in the Adams Mountain City.” She very softly answers without raising her head. “You’re not here to spy on us like the others so that your people can return and attack us are you?” Her voice trembles as she asks the questions. “That’s what the prophets say.” “The Climate Prophets?” I ask certain that I had heard her wrong. She gasps and backs farther way from the cage. “You are going to attack us aren’t you?” She says. “How else would you know who they are?” “No…no, I…” I scramble to pull my reading paper out of my suit and power it up. “Do you read?” I say as I show her the paper. She looks at me like I had just grown a third eye. “Doesn’t everybody?” She replies. I have no answer for this because at our city we have extremely little reading material and to learn to read is not a luxury many want or need to spend time doing. “Ah. Yeah, sure. I just thought…” I didn’t know what to say then remembering the paper I shove it toward her. “I only know about the Climate Prophets because of my great grand fathers diary.” I shook the paper hoping she would understand. “Who has been attacking you?” “No one that any one remembers but the Prophets tell us this every time a stranger appears. It’s the only way to keep us safe they tell us before condemning the men to the oil mines.” She adds sadly. “No one knows what happens to them after that.” The word oil catches my attention. “Oil. There hasn’t been oil for over two hundred years. It was outlawed and destroyed during the climate wars.” I said incredulously my hand tapping my reading paper. Maybe I grew yet another eye on my face judging from the way she looks at me. “What do you think powers this city, the lights and the heat? The huge air purifiers and the air pumps from the surface? All the equipment? Where are you from?” She finally asked. Suddenly I become aware of the constant humming and vibrations I had been feeling, machines powered the city. I struggle with the concept. Nobody I know would think this is possible. We have a few very tiny crude generators at our city but the small amounts of fuels we have been able to find to run them make them almost useless. A thousand questions rush into my brain and trip over each other as they leave my mouth. The girl, Annaliese, gets scared and backs farther away from my cage. “I’ve said too much.” Her quiet voice almost blocked out by her retreating footsteps. “I will be back with your supper.” With the bars grasped in my hands and my face pressed tight to the cage I call after her. Her footsteps fade into the darkness. Check back every week for a new instalment of the online exclusive by Richard Cozicar The Ice Racer. The closer we walk the brighter the light becomes. My visor’s not equipped to handle a light of this magnitude. It was designed to enhance the dim light of our world there was no reason for it to block out light of any kind. My eyes start burning from the intensity but I find I don’t want to turn away…I can’t to stop staring…the sight is…unbelievable.
My worries change from being discovered to amazement as I draw closer. Buildings start to materialize in the light. Actual buildings like my grandfather had described to me, not caves of rock and ice like the ones in the New Capital, but metal structures. Shiny metal like the kind we would occasionally stumble across trapped below the surface in the ice. The metal we found always belonged to the giant metal behemoths with the huge blades that lay below the surface trapped in the ice and snow. This is not the case down here. I slow down to a shuffle as the sights in front of me overwhelm my senses. From the distance it looked wonderful but as I get closer I start to wonder if I hadn’t died when I fell and perhaps I am now approaching heaven. A push in the back lets me know I’m not dead or dreaming. Then a more forceful shove urges me forward. I stumble a few steps then regain my footing. My thoughts of amazement fade quickly as I am returned to the brutal reality of my predicament. Shading my eyes I increase the gait of my stride. The path we are following leads downward at a slow but steady slope then bends around a large outcropping of rock. The view of the city is momentarily lost although the cascade of bright light remains to illuminate our way. Winding around the rock the view of the metal buildings and surrounding area slowly start to reappear in front of me but now they become much clearer and larger as each footstep brings me closer to this alien place. A crowd of people can be seen gathering on the trail ahead of me. More footsteps, the buildings and crowd of people growing bigger with each step I take, the city now rising right up in front of me. I keep my eyes focused straight ahead on the trail ahead of me not wanting another push to the back reminding me to keep moving. I can’t help it. I slow again and stare dumb struck at the sites. The whispers of the crowd’s voices start to drift down the trail to my ears. People can be seen walking from all directions in front of me increasing the size of the crowd that had already gathered. Everyone is clothed the same as the two people behind me, flowing robes but in a variety of colours, some with sashes some without. It takes me a while to notice but these people aren’t wearing helmets of any kind or any type of breathing apparatus that I can see unlike like my two captors. Could it be possible? Is the air clean enough and the temperature warm enough to allow breathing with out any mechanical assistance or are these people different in some way that the air caused by the erupting volcanoes is not toxic to them? I think back several hours. Didn’t I experiment with the air quality myself? When I discovered my feeding tube had broken when I fell. Do I dare shut off my suits air scrubber? I decide against it. Probably not a good time to experiment with my breathing until I find out what lays in store for me. I should find out soon. I am only yards away from the crowds of the glimmering city. I take a chance and look from one side to the other. We have obviously traveled a great distance from the river of lava, but I don’t see any signs of packed ice anywhere around. I look up. The height of this cavern is enormous, the brilliant light of the city is not able to penetrate the darkness at the upper reaches of the dome. I am now close enough to clearly make out the faces of the crowd awaiting our approach. All the faces carry the same blank look. Everyone is staring at me like I am some strange entity unlike anything they have ever seen before. “Stop.” A voice from behind me commands. I do as I am told and stare awkwardly at the people standing in front of me. As much as I want to look up at the shiny city behind the crowd I am unable to raise my eyes. I hear murmurs but everyone is standing still looking at me and me looking back at them. Then in the back of the now sizeable crowd I notice movement. Men and women moving aside as a small group of colourfully robed elderly men stride toward me followed closely by four other people, three men and a women who are dressed in what I think is some type of military uniforms. The four soldier types have guns strapped to their sides. My heart races in unknown trepidation. Three very old men dressed in bright green robes stop in front of me, the soldiers are a step behind them and I watch as they all look quizzically first at me and then at each other. “Who are you?” One of the men asks. “Where are you from?” “Mike…my name is…” I start to answer but another of the old men motion with their hand silencing me. “Take him to the cages.” He says as turns to address the soldiers behind him. “Hey!...I…” I start to protest as two of the soldiers grab my arms and begin leading me forward through the blank staring milling crowd. People watch me closely as I am paraded through the throng of people on my way to who knows where. The grasp of my new escorts is firm on my arms; the other two soldiers follow tight behind us. What have I fallen into I wonder. Nobody here seems very happy to see me in fact I notice fear hidden behind the eyes of the watching bystanders as I pass. I try to catch glimpses of the city as I am led to wherever and whatever the cages are. I mean I know what cages are but is my definition and theirs the same? And why a cage. Obviously these people can see that I am not a threat. From the looks of these strange people and the bright, shiny city they must know by looking at me that their technology is certainly better then anything I would have. My journey doesn’t last long. The soldiers stop just inside the outskirts of the city. One of the soldiers behind me rushes in front of our group and opens a door to a low-lying building. I try to resist going inside but am overpowered. Lights flicker on. Cages…rows and rows of cages. I am dragged to the one nearest the entrance and watch as the cage door is opened. The two men holding me thrust me through the opening. By the time I regain my footing I hear the metal door clang shut. “Stop. You don’t understand.” I manage to say before the soldiers walk back outside leaving me alone in this room filled with cages. I stand unmoving staring at the closed door. Now what. Finally I come to terms with being locked up. The lights in the room are dim, almost dark but with the help of my visor I have no trouble seeing the contents of my cage. A shelf over on the far wall, which I presume is a bed and a hole in the floor and then lots and lots of round metal bars to keep me confined. I wander over to the shelf and sit down. My throat is scratchy and dry. The thought of a drink enters my mind again. I forgot how thirsty I was amidst all the excitement. “Can I get a drink of water?” I holler a few times. The echo of my own voice in the room is the only answer I get. I hang my head in despair feeling sorry for myself. I don’t know how long I sit like this before I hear a voice. “They are going to do away with you…you know.” A quiet female voice announced. I jumped to my feet and walked the few steps to the front of the cage. With my hands grasping the bars I turn my head trying to get a glimpse of the girl in the poorly lit room. Looking toward the far end of the room I gaze unblinking. Slowly out of the shadows I spot a girl about my age walking toward my cage, her hands holding a tray in front of her. As she comes closer I see a drab brown robe draped around her shoulders, her arms jutting out from an opening in the front of the robe. “Who are you?” It was my turn to ask to ask the question. The girl stops in front of the bars and looks up at me with sorrow filled eyes. Through a slot in the bars she passes me the tray. “What do you mean…who are you?” I desperately ask searching for answers. “They will do away with you like they did away with all the others.” She repeats as she backs away from the cage and disappears the way she came. |
Richard CozicarA new Canadian Author with too many ideas in his head. Surprising even himself with where his stories go. Archives
January 2018
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