• Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.

Mine Misery

Go to CruxDreams.com
Gripping stuff - even if thy're caught,
can there be a worse fate than they were already suffering in the mine?

(oh, yes there can - on CruxForums, - things can always get worse,
and generally do ;) :devil:)
 
Just a quick note-the pass the Sheriff is going to lead them through (successfully or unsuccessfully) I have based on an actual pass in the Adirondacks of New York through which I have hiked, though I have exaggerated it for effect. It was a route on the Underground Railroad that slaves took to Canada and there was a mine at the southern end, though it was an iron mine-and later, during World War II, titanium, which was used in aircraft manufacture-not a salt mine. The famous abolitionist John Brown had a farm nearby.

One of the mountains flanking the pass, Algonquin, which I have climbed quite a few times, was the scene of a daring rescue of two young hikers just a few days ago http://www.cbsnews.com/news/hikers-...olizio-blake-alois-adirondaks-algonquin-peak/
 
Barbaria1 said:
Chapter 15 The Escape (Barb)

It was just the end of another night shift at the mine. Pat and I, along with the other enforcers, fed the slaves, whipped the miscreants, and then herded the slaves to the space where they slept. Everything was running smoothly. We went about the usual task of locking everyone's ankle chains to their neck collars. I was about to lock Sarah and Amy up for the night. They knew the routine and were already on their backs with their legs held high in the air, when George tapped me on the shoulder.

"A word," he said, rolling his eyes as a signal to follow him.

"Stay where you are!" I snapped at Sarah and Amy. "Keep those legs high and spread until I come back!"

"Listen carefully now," George said in a whisper once I had joined him some distance away from the others. "We are breaking out to freedom within the hour. We'll need to get a head start before daybreak. So pretend to lock those two up for the night, but pass Sarah the word and let her tell Amy that she is going with us."

I returned to my charges and whispered to Sarah, "Don't react to what I am about to say. George says tonight is the night. I am only pretending to lock you up. Let Amy know what's going on, but do it quietly and don't cause a ruckus."

Then Pat, George and I sat down to wait. We dared not make a move until the sounds that sleeping slaves make filled the chamber. Once everyone seemed asleep, George gave the signal and I went over to where Sarah and Amy laid on their backs. I could see the whites of their eyes in the dim light. I was relieved to know that they were awake and waiting.

"Ok," I said, keeping my voice low, and placing a finger in front of my lips. "Now, get up quietly and follow me."

We joined George and Pat outside the chamber. The next problem was getting past the day shift, which was already hard at work. George dealt with this by having us formed up as a punishment detachment. He led the way followed by Sarah and Amy, shuffling along in their shackles. Pat and I brought up the rear, whips in hand.

Out in the main tunnel, we passed by dozens of naked slaves, sweating as they worked at their various tasks. No one paid any attention to us as we passed by until we ran into Zelda.

"Where you going with those two cunts at this hour?" she demanded.

George held up a handful of wooden stakes and a hammer, and said, "Some serious punishment today for these two. They will be on 'stake-out' all day in the gravel pit."

"Ahhh," replied Zelda. "I'll go with and give you a hand."

"Really not necessary. Don't you have a shift to manage?" retorted George edgily.

"I've got the time, and I love a good stake-out," she laughed.

So out we trudged to the gravel pit with Zelda following along. George gave me a 'now what?' kind of glance. I shrugged.

When we reached the gravel pit, we went through the motions of staking-0ut Sarah and Amy, just as Pat and I had been staked before. We spreadeagled them on the hard grainy ground. Zelda watched, and made helpful suggestions about how to position the stakes for maximum exposure of their nude bodies. I kept looking anxiously at the horizon, expecting to see the first sign of dawn. Thankfully it was still dark ... a short November day ... the only light coming from the arc lights above the pit.

"Sun will be up soon," cackled Zelda as she sat down on a large rock and stretched out her legs. "Can't wait to watch these two suffer out here in the cold. Maybe we should whip their titties a bit too!"

I sat down next to her, and began to chat her up about how things had changed since Pat and I first arrived and she nearly had me hung on my first day. While I kept her distracted, Pat wandered off behind her, picked up a large stone and brought it down hard on her skull.

She slumped to the ground unconscious, perhaps dead. I placed my hand on her throat to check.

"Quick, we've no time to waste," urged George as he began releasing Sarah from the stakes. Pat and I jumped to do the same for Amy. Slowly they got to their feet.

"I'm cold," whined Amy, flapping her arms like a big bird. Don't you have some clothes for us to wear?"

"Sorry ... if you want out of here, you just will have to tough it out," warned George. "We have a lot of ground to cover before dawn. They will discover that we are missing soon enough. Now hold still so I can remove your shackles!"

Once Sarah and Amy were freed, we headed out ... circling the shack and plunging into the forest. It was tough going for Sarah and Amy, making their way through the brush without any clothing ... and with bare feet too ... and from time to time they faltered ...

And when they did, I didn't mind ... and neither did Pat ... hurrying them with a lash or two. We may all be in this together, but memories of the way they once treated us still lingered.

Once the sun rose, and it was easier to see our way and we made better progress, but growing exhaustion and dropping temperatures took their toll as we climbed higher into the foothills leading to the mountain refuge. I knew somewhere up ahead, the Sheriff was waiting for us ... hopefully with warm clothing and footwear ... we just had to keep going.
Click to expand...

Ohhhh Gawd....

Now a dead body waiting to be discovered. :eek:

I hope they make good time through that pass, or there'll only be one way to save them! :eek:

2sgn024beamup.gif
:doh:
 
Chapter 16 Into the Mountains (Sheriff John Miller 4)

I found my way to the pre-arranged meeting spot shortly after sun down. I knew Sarah and Barb and the others worked the night shift under George, so they would make their getaway in the early hours before the sun was up, but exactly when would depend on when the best opportunity presented itself. Until then, all I could do was wait. In the meantime, I released my horse-the way through the pass was full of rough sections that a horse wouldn’t be able to get through. I hoped that when they found Old Fred, they would assume I had died and they would devote some resources to looking for me along the road, which might divert efforts from searching for the escapees.

It was a pleasant fall evening, a bit of a chill in the air, but nothing too hard to take, especially in the sheltered underbrush where I hid. But I knew that up higher it would be considerably colder. In fact, at this time of year there was likely some snow or ice on the ground. That would slow us down, but it would also slow down our pursuers. Regardless, the mine was such an awful place that slaves often didn’t last too long, and I couldn’t take the chance that Barb and Sarah would still be alive when summer came again.

I dozed off and on, listening for any unusual sounds. Finally, just as the sun was coming up, I heard the sound of people approaching. Peering out from my shelter, I saw George leading a small party of women-Sarah, Barb, Pat and Amy. While Barb and Pat wore the khakis and boots of mine enforcers, Sarah and Amy were naked. They looked cold and tired even before the journey had begun.

Pushing the brush aside, I emerged. Sarah rushed up to hug me, tearful, “Thank God, I’m out of that hell hole, Father,” she said. It was very uncomfortable hugging your naked daughter. I think she was so used to being naked in the mine that she didn't really notice.

I broke the embrace quickly and, choked up a bit before I managed to tell her how glad I was too. Barb hung back-I understood her reluctance to trust me, but when I approached her and hugged her she didn’t resist, nor did Pat. I decided to forego a hug with Amy, just shaking hands with her and with George.

“Alright,” I told them, “We are going to need every minute of head start we have, so let’s get dressed and get moving.” I opened the chest and handed each of them a poncho. There were four left, so I put one on myself and gave a second one to Sarah to wear. She and Amy borrowed my knife and cut up the extra ones to make crude leggings to protect their legs. We would need every bit of clothing at the higher elevations.

I laid the boots out on the ground. “I can’t promise a perfect fit. Find the closest to your size that you can and that will have to do,” I instructed. Sarah and Amy managed each to find ones that were reasonable fits.

Once everyone was dressed, I divided up the dried food. “We’re going to follow the brook up into the mountains, so there will be plenty of water along the way,” I assured them. “Now let’s get moving.”

I began leading the party through the dense forest, listening carefully for the sound of the brook. It was slow going, making one’s way carefully over roots and fallen trees and rocks, but finally I heard the rushing water. Despite the drought in the lowlands, it had rained in the mountains and the water was about knee high.

“We’re going to cross,” I warned them. “They will have dogs for sure, so we’ll cross back and forth as we go up. That will make it harder for the dogs to follow our scent.” I waded into the water. It was cold, almost numbing to my feet even through the boots. I reached out my hand; Barb grasped it and waded out, shivering, then reached her hand out for Pat. Eventually, all the women made it across, with George bringing up the rear.

We turned uphill, more or less following the brook. To call our route a trail would be an exaggeration. It was a path of sorts, overgrown with bushes, some with thorns that pierced our clothing, tearing at our skin. It was in much worse shape than I remembered from my younger days, probably because the deteriorating conditions of society left fewer and fewer people with the time or inclination to come up here. There were downed trees in many places that we had to climb over or under, which made progress painstakingly slow.

As we climbed, crossing and recrossing the brook, it got distinctly colder. When we stopped to rest, which was necessary quite frequently given the effort of fighting our way through the forest, I could see everyone shivering, their breath turning to steam, their teeth chattering.

By this point, the maples and other hardwoods were mostly gone, replaced by birch, spruce and balsam, the trees prevalent at higher elevation. This didn’t mean that the path became easier, however. In fact, it became harder. We were now entering the actual pass, where the way passed between two mountains, with cliffs on both sides. Over the millennia, many large boulders had fallen off the cliffs, blocking the way, forcing us to pick our way around and sometimes over them.

The difficulty was made worse by the fact that at this altitude there were patches of ice, especially in shaded areas where the sun didn’t reach. I cautioned everyone to be careful. However, about 15 minutes later, I heard a scream and turned around to see that Amy had slid on a patch of ice and down an embankment, where she lay, her right leg pinned under her.

I went over to her as quickly as I could, accompanied by George and Sarah. George grasped her leg and tried to move it from under her. She howled in pain and I could see that the lower part of the limb was bent at an odd angle. We helped her up, but as soon as she tried to put any weight on the leg, she crumpled to the ground.

I took George aside, leaving Sarah to comfort Amy. “She won’t be able to walk, especially over this rough ground and there is no way we can carry her in this terrain.”

George nodded. “If we leave her here, she’ll either freeze to death, die of dehydration or be found by the searchers and tortured to death.” It was my turn to nod. “The kindest thing to do is to shoot her,” he said. Our eyes met. I handed him a pistol.

George and I approached the spot where Amy lay, her head in Sarah’s lap. I grasped Sarah’s arm. “Come with me," I ordered, pulling her a short distance away.

“Father, what are you going to do?” she asked, her eyes brimming over with tears.

“Sarah, she can’t walk. There is only one thing we can do.” She turned and saw the pistol in George’s hand.

“You can’t, Father. Amy has been my best friend for so many years. And my lover. You can’t.” She started beating her fists against my chest.

“Sarah, if you love her, you can’t leave her to suffer. “ I began leading her ahead on the trail, motioning for the others to follow. As we rounded the first bend, a shot rang out. Sarah screamed. I hugged her, telling her she had to calm down and go on, that Amy would have wanted her to live. After a few minutes, George, having covered Amy’s body with as many branches and leaves as he could, joined us, handing Amy’s poncho to Pat to give her extra warmth. We continued onward, the only direction we could go.
 
The dilemma of every pet/slave owner everywhere. When they are injured or sick, what to do? A sad decision, sensitively handled, windar.

But that shot! They may as well have had a loudspeaker "We're here".
 
old slave said:
The dilemma of every pet/slave owner everywhere. When they are injured or sick, what to do? A sad decision, sensitively handled, windar.

But that shot! They may as well have had a loudspeaker "We're here".
Click to expand...

Good point ... I told them!!!!!
 
Repertor said:
View attachment 444341 The way to freedom is long and hard. View attachment 444342
Poor Amy. She didn't make it. At least she had a merciful death.
The pursuers must on their track by now and Old Slaves' fear is justified.
Hopefully they are still too far away to have heard the shot.
Click to expand...
Barbaria1 said:
Good point ... I told them!!!!!
Click to expand...
old slave said:
The dilemma of every pet/slave owner everywhere. When they are injured or sick, what to do? A sad decision, sensitively handled, windar.

But that shot! They may as well have had a loudspeaker "We're here".
Click to expand...

Yes, I thought about that. I suppose they could have strangled Amy or hit her over the head with a rock, but none of those are so certain or easy, especially if she fights back, which she might. They didn't have a lot of time to think, so they did what was most obvious.

Anyway, the pass is very clear; once the dogs pick up their trail there is no doubt where they are going. It becomes a race-stay tuned for the next exciting episode.
 
Lots of good versions of this haunting song on YouTube,
the images with this one illustrate the historical background to the journey
Windar's describing so grippingly -


(The Drinking Gourd is aka The Big Dipper over there,
The Plough in Britain - the way to the north, of course)
 
windar said:
Chapter 16 Into the Mountains (Sheriff John Miller 4)

I found my way to the pre-arranged meeting spot shortly after sun down. I knew Sarah and Barb and the others worked the night shift under George, so they would make their getaway in the early hours before the sun was up, but exactly when would depend on when the best opportunity presented itself. Until then, all I could do was wait. In the meantime, I released my horse-the way through the pass was full of rough sections that a horse wouldn’t be able to get through. I hoped that when they found Old Fred, they would assume I had died and they would devote some resources to looking for me along the road, which might divert efforts from searching for the escapees.

It was a pleasant fall evening, a bit of a chill in the air, but nothing too hard to take, especially in the sheltered underbrush where I hid. But I knew that up higher it would be considerably colder. In fact, at this time of year there was likely some snow or ice on the ground. That would slow us down, but it would also slow down our pursuers. Regardless, the mine was such an awful place that slaves often didn’t last too long, and I couldn’t take the chance that Barb and Sarah would still be alive when summer came again.

I dozed off and on, listening for any unusual sounds. Finally, just as the sun was coming up, I heard the sound of people approaching. Peering out from my shelter, I saw George leading a small party of women-Sarah, Barb, Pat and Amy. While Barb and Pat wore the khakis and boots of mine enforcers, Sarah and Amy were naked. They looked cold and tired even before the journey had begun.

Pushing the brush aside, I emerged. Sarah rushed up to hug me, tearful, “Thank God, I’m out of that hell hole, Father,” she said. It was very uncomfortable hugging your naked daughter. I think she was so used to being naked in the mine that she didn't really notice.

I broke the embrace quickly and, choked up a bit before I managed to tell her how glad I was too. Barb hung back-I understood her reluctance to trust me, but when I approached her and hugged her she didn’t resist, nor did Pat. I decided to forego a hug with Amy, just shaking hands with her and with George.

“Alright,” I told them, “We are going to need every minute of head start we have, so let’s get dressed and get moving.” I opened the chest and handed each of them a poncho. There were four left, so I put one on myself and gave a second one to Sarah to wear. She and Amy borrowed my knife and cut up the extra ones to make crude leggings to protect their legs. We would need every bit of clothing at the higher elevations.

I laid the boots out on the ground. “I can’t promise a perfect fit. Find the closest to your size that you can and that will have to do,” I instructed. Sarah and Amy managed each to find ones that were reasonable fits.

Once everyone was dressed, I divided up the dried food. “We’re going to follow the brook up into the mountains, so there will be plenty of water along the way,” I assured them. “Now let’s get moving.”

I began leading the party through the dense forest, listening carefully for the sound of the brook. It was slow going, making one’s way carefully over roots and fallen trees and rocks, but finally I heard the rushing water. Despite the drought in the lowlands, it had rained in the mountains and the water was about knee high.

“We’re going to cross,” I warned them. “They will have dogs for sure, so we’ll cross back and forth as we go up. That will make it harder for the dogs to follow our scent.” I waded into the water. It was cold, almost numbing to my feet even through the boots. I reached out my hand; Barb grasped it and waded out, shivering, then reached her hand out for Pat. Eventually, all the women made it across, with George bringing up the rear.

We turned uphill, more or less following the brook. To call our route a trail would be an exaggeration. It was a path of sorts, overgrown with bushes, some with thorns that pierced our clothing, tearing at our skin. It was in much worse shape than I remembered from my younger days, probably because the deteriorating conditions of society left fewer and fewer people with the time or inclination to come up here. There were downed trees in many places that we had to climb over or under, which made progress painstakingly slow.

As we climbed, crossing and recrossing the brook, it got distinctly colder. When we stopped to rest, which was necessary quite frequently given the effort of fighting our way through the forest, I could see everyone shivering, their breath turning to steam, their teeth chattering.

By this point, the maples and other hardwoods were mostly gone, replaced by birch, spruce and balsam, the trees prevalent at higher elevation. This didn’t mean that the path became easier, however. In fact, it became harder. We were now entering the actual pass, where the way passed between two mountains, with cliffs on both sides. Over the millennia, many large boulders had fallen off the cliffs, blocking the way, forcing us to pick our way around and sometimes over them.

The difficulty was made worse by the fact that at this altitude there were patches of ice, especially in shaded areas where the sun didn’t reach. I cautioned everyone to be careful. However, about 15 minutes later, I heard a scream and turned around to see that Amy had slid on a patch of ice and down an embankment, where she lay, her right leg pinned under her.

I went over to her as quickly as I could, accompanied by George and Sarah. George grasped her leg and tried to move it from under her. She howled in pain and I could see that the lower part of the limb was bent at an odd angle. We helped her up, but as soon as she tried to put any weight on the leg, she crumpled to the ground.

I took George aside, leaving Sarah to comfort Amy. “She won’t be able to walk, especially over this rough ground and there is no way we can carry her in this terrain.”

George nodded. “If we leave her here, she’ll either freeze to death, die of dehydration or be found by the searchers and tortured to death.” It was my turn to nod. “The kindest thing to do is to shoot her,” he said. Our eyes met. I handed him a pistol.

George and I approached the spot where Amy lay, her head in Sarah’s lap. I grasped Sarah’s arm. “Come with me," I ordered, pulling her a short distance away.

“Father, what are you going to do?” she asked, her eyes brimming over with tears.

“Sarah, she can’t walk. There is only one thing we can do.” She turned and saw the pistol in George’s hand.

“You can’t, Father. Amy has been my best friend for so many years. And my lover. You can’t.” She started beating her fists against my chest.

“Sarah, if you love her, you can’t leave her to suffer. “ I began leading her ahead on the trail, motioning for the others to follow. As we rounded the first bend, a shot rang out. Sarah screamed. I hugged her, telling her she had to calm down and go on, that Amy would have wanted her to live. After a few minutes, George, having covered Amy’s body with as many branches and leaves as he could, joined us, handing Amy’s poncho to Pat to give her extra warmth. We continued onward, the only direction we could go.
Click to expand...

This is real edge of the seat stuff.... I am SO hooked! :popcorn:
 
Chapter 17 The Chase is On! (Sheriff John Miller 5)

It was shortly after Amy’s tragic accident occurred that I heard them, dogs, baying in the distance. I dropped back to confer with George. “You hear that?” He cupped his ear and nodded.

I moved back to the front of the group, then turned to face the women. They looked tired and cold, Sarah the worst, unable to shake what had happened to her lover and friend. “I hear them behind us, dogs, and, doubtless, a large party of deputies and armed citizens. If they catch us they will kill us all, likely in a way that will make death seem welcome. I know everyone is exhausted-I am too-but we need to move as quickly as we can, while still being careful not to slip like Amy did.”

At the mention of Amy, Sarah began to wail. Barb glared at her and remonstrated, “We don’t have time to waste crying. You heard our father; I’m not going to let those fuckers catch me. If you can’t keep up, I say we leave you behind, alive, or dead like your pal Amy, your choice.” With that, she turned and began forging ahead with renewed vigor, followed closely by Pat. Resigned, Sarah turned and followed as I made my way back to the front of the pack.

We continued ascending, the sound of the dogs and the occasional shouts of the men not too far behind us. I estimated maybe 10 minutes or so back, but sound can do funny things in places like this. What was indisputable is they were following.

By now, the brook had run out, a sign that the top of the pass wasn’t far. The passageway had narrowed, the cliffs on both sides closing in. Very little sun got down to the ground especially this late in the year, so the ice that formed melted very slowly. I remembered seeing some in sheltered places even in summer during my days hiking here.

wallface 2.jpg highres_29569321.jpeg P1010992.JPG You will have to imagine scaling those rocks WITHOUT the ladder:D

At last, the ground leveled out as we reached the summit of the pass. Once through, it would be downhill all the way to rebel territory. Then, rounding the final bend in the path, I saw the massive boulder and tangle of downed trees blocking the way. “Shit!” I muttered. That hadn’t been here when I had been up here last. But that had been more than 20 years ago and pieces of the mountains could always give way at any moment.

The column halted. “What do we do now?” Pat asked nervously.

“We’ll find a way around it,” I said, “Wait here while I scout it out.” I looked on both sides of the boulder, but it was wedged in tightly with no passageway large enough for a person. The only way was over the top, but there were few footholds and those that existed were iced over. I tried the likeliest looking one and immediately slid back, skinning my knee on the rock, lucky not to have broken anything. It would take crampons to scale this rock and we didn’t have any.

My heart was pounding. The women looked very scared. I was scared. I could hear the posse behind us. Retreat was impossible since the pass was far too narrow to slip by them. We had a rifle and two pistols, not much of a match for what our pursuers would certainly have if it came to a shootout. And all they would need to do was wait us out until we froze or starved to death. “Think, John,” I told myself.

Then it came to me. I remembered, years ago, exploring a small passage right under the cliff on the left-hand side. It had been a bit spooky, but it was beautiful and it led through to the other side. But you had to back-track a bit to find the entrance, which I remembered as being not very obvious.

I turned to begin descending. “Follow me,” I called, “There is another way through if I can remember how to find it.” I reached the spot that seemed right and made into the woods, pushing madly through the brush, hoping that the others could follow.

When I reached the cliff wall, I ran along it, first one way then the other, looking madly for the entrance, stumbling over rocks that had fallen from the mountain, panting from the effort. My memory had faded over the years and I couldn’t be sure where the entrance to the side passage was. The dogs were howling, not far off, maybe 5 minutes away. Finally, on the third or fourth pass along the cliff wall, approaching from below, I saw what looked like a cleft in the rock. “I’ve found it!” I yelled. But the entrance was blocked by a large fallen spruce tree, one that looked like it would be impossible to move. Behind me I could hear the dogs and the shouts of the men coming ever closer. There was no time to lose.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom