Wells secured a midday meal in the marketplace by simply walking along and choosing whatever he wanted. The booths were heaped with food and merchandise, but no one watched them or asked for payment. As he was finishing a hearty, rolled patty, he discovered a display of knives and daggers on a table outside a weapons supplier’s shop. He glanced around to be sure he was alone and then selected one of each and their matching sheaths. He secured them under his waistband and continued exploring.

After a couple hours of solitude, he heard the whine of idling engines and distant, agitated voices. He quickened his pace to follow the sound. Eventually, he reached several long lines of people waiting to board shuttles.

“What’s going on?” he asked a middle-aged woman with two teenagers.

“You haven’t heard?” She asked, incredulous.

“Mum, you shouldn’t talk to strange-looking men,” one of the teenagers admonished.

“I’ve been…away,” he replied, instinctively stepping back at the teenager’s criticism.

The woman scrutinized him questioningly, but then recognized his worn shoes, ragged clothes, and unkempt appearance. She nodded in understanding and stated, “You were a prisoner.”

“Yes, until twelve days ago.”

“These are shuttles to take all of us back to Earth,” she explained. “The prisons have all lost their lease, and have to be shut down. The military is here to evacuate us. Raedwald has ordered everyone from Earth to go back. They came for us mid-morning today and we’re only allowed to bring what we could carry. We have to leave. We don’t have a choice.”

“How long have you known about this?”

“Several dimmings. The notices didn’t tell us the exact day they would come for us, but we began receiving them a while ago,” she replied. Pointing at a pair of military officers a few meters away, she added, “They can tell you what you need to do.”

He thanked her and approached the officers. After a brief conversation, one of them activated a list and asked, “What’s your name? I’ll check for your boarding documents.”

“Wellington Gainor”

“Gainor, Gainor. There is no Gainor here,” the officer said flatly.

“99437958,” Wells reluctantly mumbled.

“Ah, yes, here you are,” the officer acknowledged. “I’m sorry prisoners are not being accommodated. Those orders come straight from Raedwald.”

“Sorry. Step away please.” The second officer drew his handheld blast thrower and waved dismissively.

Wells paced several meters from the officers and then stood drinking in the sight of the people, the shuttles, and the general commotion. Finally, he headed toward the town gates with his shoulders drooped and his head down. When he reached the marketplace again, he chose another knife from the weapons display and then commandeered a reed basket which he loaded up with food to take with him. Just as the town gates came into view, he heard the officer with the boarding list call out, “Gainor. Gainor, wait up.”

Wells paused to allow the officer to catch up and asked, “What do you want now? Isn’t it enough that you won’t let me go home?”

“That’s the thing,” the officer replied. After glancing around to be sure their conversation wasn’t overheard, the officer continued, “There’s going to be a couple of shuttles landing outside of town. Nearer to the prison. Watch for them. They’ll take you. They aren’t supposed to. None of us are, but Raedwald’s niece is doing some trips on her own. If you can get on one of those, you’ll be fine.”

With that, the officer turned and ran back to the shuttle boarding area.

It took Wells the remainder of the day to reach his lean-to. By then he was tired and needed nourishment. He sat at the opening of his tiny home to watch the sky and consider his options as he savored his evening meal. Director Brenhus would have known about the evacuation, and if the director stayed true to form, he would find some way to keep the prisoners from reaching the two extra shuttles.

Damn Raedwald’s lack of human decency, Wells thought. He had to go back.

The next day Wells tucked fruit, and another rolled patty in his shirt pocket, scattered the rest of the food from the marketplace for animals to scavenge, and placed the basket inside the lean-to. He pulled the rough door shut, gauged the time by the location of the suns, and then trekked to the prison. Rather than walk in through the front entrance, he found a vantage point in the trees where he could observe the prison without being detected.

A military shuttle loomed overhead on the docking tower. A soldier examined boxes and luggage and two more loaded the ones he approved. Disturbingly, no one was on work details. Instead, all of the prisoners stood shackled to the front of their cells while gaolers and soldiers checked each thoroughly. Once the soldiers indicated their satisfaction, the gaolers released the prisoners from the shackles long enough to lock them in the cells.

A detail of soldiers and two gaolers broke off from the others and headed toward the prison’s dirt cellars. They came running back a few minutes later and leaned against the wall of the dining hall. Two loud explosions flung dirt and chunks of produce from the cellars into the air and shook the ground so violently that Wells had to tighten his grip on the branch.

When the dirt settled, the soldiers lined up the gaolers so that each one could be inspected and approved for boarding. Two soldiers disappeared into the office for several minutes. When they came back out they locked the door and tossed the key into the brush at the edge of the trees.

Marching to the senior military officer in charge, one of the soldiers from the office reported, “Director Brenhus is not here, sir. Nor is the woman he asked to have boarded with him.”

“Let’s go. We have our orders, and no more time,” the senior officer responded.

Wells watched in amazement as the soldiers assisted the goalers into the shuttle, sealed the door, and powered up the engines. He remained hidden in the tree until after the shuttle lifted off and disappeared into the sky, then lowered himself off the branch and dropped to the ground. Wiping his mouth nervously, he double-checked his surroundings, and once assured that the soldiers and gaolers were gone, raced to the cells. Stopping at each cell, Wells called through the heavy door to learn if the person inside was all right and explained, “I’ll try to get into the office for the keys.”

When he failed to get beyond the locked window shutters and doors, he stood for long moments reviewing possible ways to proceed. A lone figure, dirty and bruised, appeared from beyond the dining hall where the dirt cellars had been. After a moment Wells realized that it was another prisoner, Myrtle Madoc, and he hurried to her to help her to a log where she could sit.

“Are you all right? What happened?” he asked. She shook her head and then shrugged. He repeated the question as he rested one hand on her shoulder in concern, but she slapped it away. He tossed a look toward the cells and then said,  “All the gaolers are gone. We’ve got to free the others, so they don’t die in their cells.”

He held up one hand in reluctant acceptance and then strode across the packed dirt yard and behind the office to the tool shed.

Since that building was used by so many people, the door was held in place by a simple lock that Wells wrest off with his knife. Soon he was prying the cell door hasps with the head of a mattock. As he freed them, the prisoners took up tools and worked on the other cell doors. Once everyone else was free, they took turns resting, preparing a meal, and then scraping, prying, and banging at the iron bars of the Nuisance Cages. Two of the freed prisoners scoured through the tool shed and returned with a wood chopping axe, and a hacksaw. Since the iron bars of the cages were too close together to swing an axe, the freed prisoners brought it down on the base of the café which had been constructed of common gurygum wood that was initially soft and moldable but then hardened into a concrete-like substance. They hoped to chip away enough that the bars could be loosened and removed. Instead, the hard gurygum split pieces off the axe head and then broke it from the handle. Setting it aside, one of them began pushing the hacksaw blade back and forth over an iron bar. It left a slight groove in the metal and hopes were lifted until several hours later, when they were all too exhausted to keep going, and the mark left by the hacksaw was insubstantial.

“We can’t leave them there to starve.” one of the freed prisoners objected as he looked at Wells expectantly.

Wells covered his face with his hands and exhaled slowly. Lifting his head he turned his gaze to the tree line and said, “Do whatever you have to catch them and get the masks off. They won’t survive otherwise. Once you do, you’ll be able to feed them through the bars. That will buy them more time. And then, keep trying different tools from the shed to create an opening to crawl through.”

The freed prisoners nodded, and another one asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Find help,” he replied.

©2022 Vera S Scott
Thank you for reading my short story.
Chapter 3 is coming next Wednesday!