Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 207

Chapter 207: Burn it
“What do you mean, if you don’t come back?” Ford asked with concern.

“Exactly what I said. If I don’t come back, burn the box. Get it?” Martin’s expression was very serious. Ford’s brow scrunched together, but he slowly nodded.

Martin stared into his eyes a moment longer, and then placed his hand on the wall. A rumble towards the entrance drew Ford’s eyes for a moment, but when he looked back at Martin, the man appeared drained. Exhausted. Why was he going deeper into the mine if there wasn’t another survivor that needed help?

Another rumble sounded. Was it his imagination, or did this one seem more like a growl than the rumble of a shaft collapsing?

“Whatever you do, don’t come down.” Martin’s final instruction hung in the air as the man turned and walked away, talking the only light with him. Leaving Ford in darkness once more.

The strangeness of the interaction made Ford wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing, but he could still feel the paper in his hand. He waited as he listened to Martin’s footsteps retreat.

The echoes were his only company for some time. He dozed off once or twice before he realized… Martin wasn’t likely to return.

Drawing his strength together, he cried out.

“HELP! HELP ME! I’M TRAPPED!!!”

He paused. No response. He yelled at the top of his lungs, panting in between and waiting to hear if anyone in the world would respond.

At first, no one did.

In the end, it wasn’t the call of a rescuer, but the sound of pickaxes that signaled to him help was on the way. How long it would take them to reach him, he didn’t know. Would he survive long enough?

He shifted in and out of consciousness. Were the sounds growing closer, or was he growing more desperate? Both?

Martin had not returned. Had it been hours or days? Ford felt weak. Occasional sounds from the depths disturbed his mind. They must be his imaginings. Hallucinations. Was he feverish? He did not know.

He knew very little for sure now.

Eventually, the miners broke through. Hands lifted him, carried him towards the surface. A rope was tied around him to lift him up a ladder; he was too weak to climb.

“Three days, but you’re back,” One of his housemates grinned. “You’re a hero, not that the owner will care.”

A hero? Ford scoffed. He’d be in much better shape if he hadn’t yelled to the others to run. He hated himself.

“You’re welcome,” He replied with a raspy cough, and cursed them all under his breath.

Ford was carried to the building nearest to the mine entrance.

The doctor shuffled in while someone was sent to gather Ford’s meager possessions. He’d already been moved out of his house, and his things were scheduled to be given away at the end of one week, not that there were a lot of them. One change of clothes, which he would need since what he was wearing had gotten torn beyond repair in the cave-in. A wooden ring his mother had worn, apparently given by his father as a pledge to come back and marry her.

Cheap, and flimsy. The gift of a man who had lied about returning. Ford almost threw it out, but it was all he had left from his mother.

The doctor examined and splinted Ford’s leg. There were no pain medicines offered, and Ford asked for none. He’d heard how costly they were.

He relayed the story Martin had told him to give when they asked what had happened. They seemed skeptical until Ford offered them the paper Martin had scribbled on.

It was the foreman’s map; at the very least, no one could dispute that Martin had been with Ford, and was not with him when the orphan was found. Ford also couldn’t have gone far with his broken leg.

“I’ll let you sleep. I’ll collect payment next time. Odd that you didn’t die of exposure alone down there.”

Without so much as a goodbye or congratulations on his survival, the doctor turned on his heel and left.

Ford fumed. Penance. Charity. That’s why Martin had saved him, and that’s why others had sent the doctor. He flopped back onto his pillow and immediately regretted how the movement made his pain worse.

One of the men went and gathered Martin’s things as well.

“You survived, so he might. I figure his things should be stored in here, cause he’ll be hurt and in need of meds if he does make it.” The man explained. “If he doesn’t… well, Boss will probably want Martin’s stuff, but the paper says you get it, so I’m gonna leave it here anyway until the big man says otherwise. Cause I know you don’t have much. None of us does.”

“Thanks,” Ford managed to squeak the word out. “Got.. any food? Or water?”

“Um… a little. I’ll get it for you.”

The man’s face held ill-concealed pity.

Pity was the worst thing he could think of. He had very little pride and no dignity at all, but he’d been making his own way in life since he was eight. To rely on others now went against the grain of his being. He couldn’t stand it.

He’d probably had to find a way to live with it.

Martin’s things were laid on the table beside him, but Ford ignored them. Unless there was food amongst the lot, he did not care. He was weak from hunger. All he saw at a glance was clothing, a money bag, and a strange little box.

When the man returned, he brought a bowl with weak broth, and an apologetic expression.

“This was all I could get.”

It would have to do. Ford drank it slowly and tried to roll over before the large splint on his leg prevented him from doing so.

With a deep sigh and a cough that racked his body, he closed his eyes and let the pain of his injury drive him into a weary unconsciousness.