Sung In Blood

XVII

"Well," Soup said as Spud sat up, clutching his head. "We're alive. For now."

"Where are we?" Spud asked. And, "What did they give us? I've never had a hangover like this."

"I don't know. To both. With me it's my stomach."

"They dragged us onto a ship. I remember that."

"This is no ship." Darkness surrounded them. So did the odors of damp earth and rot. "You tied up?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

"Yes. But I think I can get loose."

A bright square of light materialized overhead, nearly blinding them. Vague dark shapes looked down. "You guys awake?"

Spud saw no need to pretend otherwise. "Yeah."

"Good. Ready to eat?"

"How the hell are we going to eat tied up like this?"

"I don't know. That's your problem. We just get paid to watch and feed you."

"Where are we?"

"In a hole in the ground." Both men above laughed. One lowered a basket by rope.

"Hurry it up," one jailor said. "I ain't going to sit here all day."

"Hell, let the rope go," the other said.

The line snaked down. The square of light vanished. Soup asked Spud, "What do you make of our new quarters?"

"Only what we know already. It's an old cellar of some kind."

"Those weren't the guys who caught us."

"Hired thugs."

"How do we get out?"

"First let's get untied. Step at a time."

"I'm almost loose ... There. Be done in a minute."

It took longer. Soup's fingers were numb. But in ten minutes both men were free. Soup said,

"Shall we sample our host's hospitality?"

"Your stomach better? My head is still pounding."

"A little. I'm starved. We must have been out a long time."

They emptied the basket.

They used the rope to measure their prison. It was twenty-one paces by twelve, and in terrible repair. One end wall was partly collapsed. But that was no help.

Spud found human bones. Neither he nor Soup cared to speculate on their significance.

Soup said, "Looks like the only way out is the way we came in."

"Yeah. How high you figure that was?"

"Twelve feet."

"We could reach it if I stood on your shoulders."

"Maybe. If we could find it. If it isn't locked or something. And if there isn't a guard outside. If I was guarding I'd sit on the lid."

"Best time would be at night, wouldn't it? Real early in the morning night."

Soup asked, "How are you going to know?"

The darkness was dense in that pit. It was a darkness so dense it set the eye to seeing imaginary spooks. But it was not a darkness reserved to them alone. Whenever they were silent for a time, small things rustled. Sometimes it seemed the things were not so small.

"There," Spud said.

"What?"

"Made a lariat out of the rope."

"What good is that?"

"I don't know. Yet. It's a tool. The only one we have. Maybe I could rope the guy and pull him in."

Soup did not think much of that. "Maybe we ought to sit tight."

"You think Rider knows where we are?"

"There's a good chance."

They sat tight a few hours because they had no choice.

Next time a meal came through the hatchway the light was weaker outside. Spud complained, "How about you guys untie us? There's rats down here."

Only one man had come. He laughed. "You don't eat for a few days, those ropes will loosen up."

He lowered another basket.

"Keep him talking," Soup whispered.

Spud did his best. Soup examined their prison.

It had been used as a garbage pit. And dump for bodies. He saw fragments of several skeletons.

But nothing useful as a tool or weapon.

"Quit your whining," the man above said. "You're alive." And, "I heard you guys was tough.

Guess maybe you're not so much after all." He laughed as Spud spat something back.

The easterner demolished the man's claim to a family history.

The light went out.

"I think you made him mad, Spud."

Spud chuckled. "That was the idea. Look up there."

Soup saw a hairline crack of light.

They argued about who would climb onto whose shoulders. The fading of the light caused Soup to give in.

Spud fell off his first two tries. Third time around he caught hold and kept his balance. Soup huffed and muttered. Spud strained and stretched, forced the tips of his fingers through the crack. He ground his teeth, expecting a heel to smash them.

Nothing happened.

He pulled himself up, pushed the cover with his head. "Heavy!" he gasped.

"Hurry!" Soup growled. "You're ruining my shoulders."

Spud heaved again. A corner of the lid rose. Then the whole thing slid aside. He threw an arm over the edge of the hole, anchored himself, looked around. "Nobody up here." A moment later he was out. "The rope!" he said.

It came up. He hoisted Soup. They swung the lid into place.

"Where are we?" Soup asked.

"Someplace near the Bridge. Tell that by the smell."

"Yeah. Looks marshy down there ... What's that?"

A whiny, muted, metallic sound came from the north. "Music," Soup said.

"If you say so." Spud coiled his lariat. "Let's take a look."

In a moment they crouched behind a fallen wall, looked at a shabby building which leaked light and sound. A door opened on the far side. Enough light escaped to betray a small ship drawn up on a narrow beach.

"Smugglers," Soup said. "They hired smugglers to watch us."

"What now?"

"Put some distance between us and them. Hole up till dawn. Then head along the coast till we come to a village."

Spud snorted. "We'll see."

"We won't see much for long if we don't start stepping."

The sun had not been up an hour before they knew the awful truth. "An island!" Soup snarled.

"We're on an island."

"One of the Hurm Islands, to be exact," Spud said. "Nowhere else fits."

"So we're trapped anyway."

"We'll steal a boat. We're not that far from the Saverne side."

Soup demanded, "How do you expect to do that? It won't be long before they know we're gone and start hunting. We can't grab one of their boats in broad day-light."

"We won't. I'll lower you back down so you can grouch and complain when they come to feed us.

I'll pull you out again after dark. Then we'll grab a boat. And have twelve hours' head start."

"Why don't you go down in the hole?"

"It's my plan."

Bickering, they headed for their former prison.