Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 204

Chapter 204: The cave in
Ford groaned and lifted a hand to his head. It was pitch black around him. Where was he?

He shivered in the darkness. His hand hit his helmet. The candle there was extinguished, and cold. He was wet. The subtle sound of dripping water was the only thing within his hearing.

The air was close, and when he tried to sit up he realized one of his legs was trapped.

Don’t panic. That was the most important thing. Panicking used air, and he had no way of knowing how much was in the pocket he occupied. He should be praising the powers that be that he was in a pocket at all. It could have been his whole body that was crushed, and not just his leg.

“Hello?” He coughed and choked on the breath it took to make the sound, impeding his ability to listen for a reply. When he finally was able to get enough control to breathe evenly again, he lay still in the quiet darkness.

If not for the pain he was able to now feel in his leg, and the cold creeping into his bones from the dripping water, he would feel quite peaceful. He let his head fall back down against the hard rock below it.

Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad. At least he wouldn’t have to mine anymore.

He could hear nothing but the steady drip of water from somewhere above. It must be raining on the surface. Was it night, or day? How long had passed?

Long enough for him to become hungry. Ford’s stomach gurgled.

Would he starve to death before he suffocated? He wondered how long before he would become desperate enough to drink the mine water. It likely wouldn’t kill him.

There was no visible difference between having his eyes opened or closed, so he closed them. At least if any further collapse occurred, he wouldn’t get dust in his eyes and irritate them.

Ford’s leg throbbed. He sighed. There was no way to check how hurt he was, and moving around might make it worse anyway. Better to lie still.

But why? What was he waiting for? The mine owner wouldn’t want to waste the time and money it would take to dig out the survivors, would he?

Occasionally after a collapse, survivors were pulled out of the rubble, but it was rare. After the first two days, efforts were generally abandoned. By then, there were never any survivors, and usually no families to care about the bodies being recovered.

It was a waste of breath to try to call for help. A waste of air, too. Ford couldn’t tell how big the pocket was, but he imagined it to be rather small. Tentatively, he reached his hands out on either side, and was able to feel the edges of the space he occupied.

Tracing his fingers along the rock, around his head and then above him. He could reach the space on all sides, grazing his fingertips along it, but barely.

He smiled in the darkness. He would have more room in his grave than most miners. More than his uncle likely had.

It was a fitting end, really, to come to the same pathetic death as his uncle despite being smart enough to recognize the signs.

If he’d kept quiet and just run by himself, he would have gotten out. He wondered how many men walked the surface safely now because he had enough idiotic compassion to yell a warning to them.

No good deed goes unpunished.

It was something his mother had once muttered under her breath. She’d done the laundry of a tramp who was passing through the mining town for free, so that he could be clean enough to try to get a job. The man had then robbed her of the few coins she had saved.

He remembered the saying more than any other words the woman had spoken, though she had been embarrassed when she noticed her son had overheard her bitter slip of the tongue.

Ford wondered what his last thoughts should be. His parents? His hatred of his mining taskmasters? His boiling rage at his lot in life, ending in death before his twentieth birthday?

He decided to simply enjoy the lack of work, as twisted as that seemed. He could make his last hours as relaxing as possible.

Sighing deeply, he imagined a rich life. One where he was more powerful than anyone else. Magic coursing through his veins, able to subdue anyone who crossed him. Women fawning over him. More riches than he could ever spend, more food than he could ever eat.

The jealous faces of everyone who’d ever looked down on him, the offers of matrimony as the richest, most powerful men in the world offered their daughters’ hands to him, each promising a bigger dowry than the last.

The images of escape brought a smile to his face. If that were the afterlife, he would hurry his death along now. If there were any justice in the world, he would have better luck there.

A distant rumble pulled him from his musings. A secondary collapse. His pocket was in danger.

He was going mad. It felt like the rumble was from below, not above. As if some deep ancient monster was trying to escape the depths of the earth to devour him.

Ah well. At least he wouldn’t starve. Or suffocate. Being crushed completely would hurt, but it would be quicker. For that, he could be thankful.

A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as he realized how pathetic his life was, to be thankful that he was about to be crushed to death, or if his imagination was to be believed, eaten by a dragon or land wight. Pitiful.

What began as a small laugh grew along with the rumble of the ground around him. He could feel it shift, and his voice rose to a hysterical level. He would die laughing, he decided, no matter what came.

He just couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t already been crushed.

Some dust settled on his face, followed by the tiny splashes of droplets of water. He was deep underground, was the entire world above him going to crash down on his head.

“COME ON!” He screamed at the ceiling, “KILL ME ALREADY, YOU COWARD!”

“You think being dead will be enough to get you out of work?”